


The White-Winged Crane

by amixedwitch



Series: The Moira Crane Trilogy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hufflepuff, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Pre-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Ravenclaw, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 75,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amixedwitch/pseuds/amixedwitch
Summary: After a chaotic conclusion to the summer, Moira Crane and her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, plan on having a quiet year at Hogwarts… but the year has other plans for them.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Moira Crane, Cedric Diggory/Original Character(s), Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s), Cho Chang & Original Female Character(s), Cho Chang/Roger Davies, Roger Davies & Cedric Diggory, Roger Davies & Original Character(s), Roger Davies/Fleur Delacour, Sybill Trelawney/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Moira Crane Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043550
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Moira Crane is Mixed (Black and White). Her siblings are also Mixed (Black and White). Mrs. Crane is Black and Mr. Crane is White. Salvia Boswell is Black. 
> 
> The text is based on the book version of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. It also makes references to scenes featured in the film adaptation.

On September 1st, 1989, an eleven-year girl named Moira Crane is currently sitting alone in a compartment within the Hogwarts Express. The thick-haired brunette with a tawny skin tone and loose curls wanted to join her older brother, Bryn, but he insisted that they part ways on the train. His reasoning? “You can’t make friends on the Hogwarts Express if you’re sitting with me. And all of my friends are fifth-years. I’m afraid you’ll find them quite boring.” 

He obviously didn’t want his sister embarrassing him in front of his friends. Though she understands her brother’s reasoning, she wishes that Bryn was transparent with her. Moira’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the Honeydukes Express arriving. “Some sweets for you, dear?” asks the plump, friendly witch pushing the trolley. 

Moira takes out a few sickles and looks at her options. A candle lights up in her brain. 

“I’ll take a bit of everything,” she replies as she hands over a few sickles. “Do you have a spare basket by any chance? I can pay for the basket.” 

Amused by the girl’s enthusiasm, the trolley witch pulls out a spare basket and places the sweets inside it. A new issue of the Daily Prophet catches Moira’s eye. She briefly contemplates purchasing a copy but decides against it for today. She reasons that other eleven-year-olds do not typically fixate on the newspaper as she typically does. 

With her sweet-filled basket in hand, Moira thanks the trolley witch and wanders through the corridor of the train. She looks into each compartment and finds that it is extremely full… the more compartments she peaks into, the lonelier she feels at the sight of other children huddling up. After a few minutes, she gives up and wanders back to her compartment. As she returns, Moira is surprised to see a rosy-cheeked and brown haired boy quietly reading a copy of the Daily Prophet. 

“Excuse me?” politely asks Moira. The boy takes his eyes off the newspaper and makes eye contact with her. 

“Yes?” responds the boy as he quickly and respectfully analyzes her. 

“I was sitting here earlier.” 

The boy feels gauche and prepares to get up, which instantly makes Moira feel bad. “No, no. It’s fine. I was… I’m sorry…I meant to say that I was already here but then I left because I was looking for….” she rambles on as the embarrassment-induced knots in her stomach begin to seriously impact her tongue. 

He smiles. “I understand. We can share the compartment. Are you a first-year too?” 

Moira nods as she sits across him. He folds his newspaper and places it next to him and gives her his attention. 

“Anything interesting in the paper?” she asks. “Ministry things..” answers the boy. 

Moira remembers that she has her basket of sweets. “Want some sweets?” The boy thanks her and takes a handful of sweets. 

“I’m Cedric. Cedric Diggory,” he says as he extends his hand to her. 

“Moira. Moira Crane.” 

Cedric’s mouth is agape. “You’re Moira Crane? As in the…,” he gestures at the newspaper. She breaks into an awkward smile and nods. “You and your family are famous!” he exclaims. Moira shrugs. “I’m not Harry Potter.” 

“But you own the newspaper! Are you allowed to write in it?” Cedric asks in an eager tone. 

“Not yet… More candy?” counter-asks Moira. The two continue to indulge in their sweets. 

In between eating sweets, cracking jokes, exchanging quirky stories about their hometowns, and expressing their Quidditch ambitions at Hogwarts, the pair notice several students walking up and down the corridor in their robes, which they take as their cue to change into their robes. After meeting back up in the compartment, they continue to take in all of the sweets. At this point, the basket is nearly empty. 

“My brother, Bryn, told me there will be a feast after the Sorting Ceremony,“ Moira remarks. 

“I don’t know if I can eat anything after this,” notes Cedric. “What House is he in?” 

"Ravenclaw." 

"Ah. Do you think that you’ll end up there as well?" 

"Maybe. My parents were also Ravenclaws, but I am choosing to trust whatever the Hat has to say,” answers Moira. “What about you?”

“My parents were Hufflepuffs but I will be happy with any House but Slytherin,” answers Cedric. They chuckle with a hint of worry. 

A couple of hours of sugar rushes and talkativeness later, the pair hear an announcement. 

“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.” 

As the train begins to slow down and come to a halt, Moira and Cedric exchange nervous smiles. 

“I suppose we’re not dreaming?” asks Cedric. 

“I’m afraid not. We’re here,” confirms Moira. 

As soon as the train stops, a flood of people crowds the corridor. The two kids rise from their seats and stand next to each other. They both quickly realize that she is several inches taller than him. 

“Let’s not lose each other in the crowd,” suggests Cedric. 

“Good idea,” remarks Moira. “Give me your hand.” 

He willingly does so. They both feel the comforting warmth for a brief moment before bringing their attention back to the train. 

“Ready?” she asks. He nods. She yanks him into the crowd. They huddle together as they join the other students making their way toward the door and into a tiny platform. Moira hops off first, followed by Cedric, still holding hands. Both are surprised that their surroundings are already dark and chilly. 

They see a lamp hovering over their heads and a rather tall man calling for the first years. Moira believes that this must be the guide that Bryn told her about, Hagrid. The pair, along with other first-years, follow Hagrid down a narrow path and join a boat with two other first years, a boy named Roger Davies and a girl named Salvia Boswell. The lake ride is silent and unusually smooth, probably because everyone is astounded by the almost divine sight of Hogwarts. 

A few minutes later, Moira and Cedric stand side by side as they are enveloped amongst identically dressed first years in The Chamber of Reception within Hogwarts. They listen intently as the sea of younglings stare up at a tall witch with a stern expression on her face. Moira believes that her name is Professor McGonagall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” begins Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.” 

Moira nods through this particular bit of information that she has already heard through her parents and Bryn. She does her best to keep still to contain her eagerness in check. She guides her attention back to McGonagall, who is still giving her speech.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.” 

Cedric nudges her left forearm. Moira sees his grinning face and lets out a gleeful smile. She is briefly hypnotized by his pretty grey eyes. Moira mentally shakes off the thought and once again pays attention to what she hopes to be the end of McGonagall’s speech: 

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." 

The professor leaves the chamber. The first-years roar in excitement and break into chatter. Moira and Cedric turn to each other. Moira squeals in delight while Cedric’s grin turns into a toothy smile. They exchange no words at that moment, but they each understand what the other is expressing. 

A few minutes later, McGonagall escorts the first-years into the Great Hall. Various ghosts, professors, and returning students focus intently on the unsorted students. Professor McGonagall begins to call out students in alphabetical order. Moira hears a familiar name from just a few minutes ago. 

“Boswell, Salvia!” 

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Upon hearing Salvia’s sorting, she deduces quickly that Moira will be sorted before Cedric. The sorting process appears to be faster as her family lets on as she soon hears McGonagall call out: 

“Crane, Moira!” 

Cedric leans in and whispers to Moira. 

“Good luck.” 

“Thanks. You too.” 

Moira politely makes her way through the crowd and up to the stool. As she sits down, she takes in the four large tables, obviously House tables. McGonagall quickly places the Sorting Hat on Moira’s head. 

Within a matter of seconds, the Sorting Hat makes its decision. 

“RAVENCLAW!” 

After the hat is removed, Moira makes her way to the verbally thunderous Ravenclaw table, where she is greeted by Nina, the Ravenclaw Prefect. As she shakes many hands, she feels someone tap on her shoulder: Bryn. The athletic fifteen-year-old gives her a tight hug, a forehead kiss, and festively carries her. 

“That’s! My! Sister!” boasts Bryn as the whole room watches. He places her down and offers an empty seat next to him. Before Moira could respond to Bryn’s newly-founded demeanor, McGonagall continues to read and the hat continues to sort. 

“Davies, Roger!” 

“RAVENCLAW!” 

Roger makes his way to the Ravenclaw table. He has the same welcome that Moira received, minus the over-enthusiastic brother. He sits across Moira and introduces himself to her before the sorting continues.

Soon, McGonagall makes her way to the only name that truly interests Moira. 

“Diggory, Cedric!” 

Moira pokes her head about as she watches Cedric walk up to the stool. The Sorting Hat barely touches Cedric’s head when it exclaims: 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” 

Moira feels herself frown slightly. Though she just met the boy, she senses that Hufflepuff does seem to suit him, just as Ravenclaw suits her. She smiles at this conclusion and joins the applause. Cedric joins the Hufflepuff table, which is left to Ravenclaw. As he sits down, he looks for Moira, who also looks for him. Once they make eye contact, they smile and wave at one another. The rest of the ceremony becomes painstakingly long for Moira… She could swear that more students join Gryffindor and Slytherin than Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. 

Finally, McGonagall reaches the final name: 

“Zwybury, Clara!” 

“RAVENCLAW!” 

Once the sorting is over, both Moira and Cedric become engulfed with the festivities and settle into their respective House dormitories. Throughout the night, Moira finds herself clicking particularly well with Roger Davies as they bond over their mutual aspiration to join the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. 

The next day, the blue and bronze-clad Moira and Roger share their first breakfast as official Hogwarts students. As Moira admires her surroundings, she sees that everyone is sitting with their Housemates. She sees Bryn on the other side of the table snickering and messing around with his friends. Obviously, he is popular. She looks over to the Hufflepuff table and sees Cedric sitting with a few other students. 

“Do we always have to sit with our Houses?” Moira asks Roger. 

“Pretty sure McGonagall said so last night,” answers Roger. “Besides, why would we split up? I don’t see the others doing so.”

A few minutes later, Roger and Moira walk into their first class as Hogwarts students - Transfiguration with none other than Professor McGonagall. Moira cannot help but notice that everyone is seated in pairs… and that, once again, students of the same House are sticking together. As she turns around to address her fellow Ravenclaw, she sees that Roger already paired up with Clara Zwybury. She gives them a frazzled look and they look around and shrug in return. Roger mouths a genuine “Sorry” and nudges his head towards Clara, who looks overly excited to be sitting with Roger. Moira looks down the Ravenclaw column and finds that it is already full. She looks over to Slytherin, on the other side of the classroom, and they too are occupied. She looks to the middle column and sees the Hufflepuff students beginning to huddle up. 

A special brand of student panic begins to enter Moira as she scrambles to find a seat. As she settles into a fright, someone in the corner of her eyes catches her attention. It’s Cedric, whose robes are now adorned by yellow and black. 

“Hi.” starts Cedric. 

“Hi.” Moira makes out as her uneasiness gets the best of her.

“Wanna sit together?” he asks. 

“Are we allowed to sit together, you know, being in different Houses and all?” she counter-asks. 

“I don’t know, but I do know that we’re allowed to still be friends.” Cedric kindly retorts. 

“Fair enough,” concludes Moira as she settles into the center seat facing what they assume to be McGonagall’s desk. Cedric takes that as his signal to sit next to her. 

Professor McGonagall never separates Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory that particular day. She never comments on it as she arrives in the classroom. As time proves that the unusual arrangement has created two remarkable students out of both the Ravenclaw girl and the Hufflepuff boy, the professor allows the two friends, despite their House affiliations, to sit together for the next few years.

On September 1st, 1991, Moira and Cedric share a compartment on the Hogwarts Express for the third year in a row. Unlike their previous rides where the two reveled in their Honeydukes-induced sugar high, the air between them is dense and opaque. Over the past few hours of the train ride, their eyes play a game of tag as they both take turns being the tagger. Moira attempts to hide her shaky and sweaty palms through the dwindling of her thumbs while Cedric fails to keep his tapping foot under control. This strange energy between the best friends began to form towards the end of their second year. It only intensified over the summer through an endless exchange of letters. 

Her hands begin to visibly vibrate. She reaches for her copy of the Daily Prophet, but her hands knock the newspaper onto the ground. Both Moira and Cedric reach for it at the same time. 

“I’ve got it, Moira -” 

“-No, Ced, I think-” 

Their hands touch. They look up to each other. Their faces are only centimeters away from each other. Both Moira and Cedric could swear that something was pulling them to one another as they grow closer and closer… and press their lips onto the other. Their lips interlock for a few moments before the friends quickly break and back away from the other. Silence takes over for a full minute as both attempt to comprehend the past moment. 

Moira decides to break the silence. “I’m not apologizing for that.” 

Cedric nods. “I’m not either.” He pauses and collects his thoughts and continues. “I know this is… new… and I like this… And I like you… a lot… and I want us to still be friends…I don’t know… What do you reckon?”

He tries to gauge Moira’s demeanor. She retracts eye-contact from him for a moment. Moira tries to think and react quickly, as she feels that this is a moment that she would prefer to not ruin. She returns her gaze to him and looks deeply into his eyes. 

"Cedric… I like this… and you… a lot too…” begins Moira. “And I’m pretty sure that the word ‘friend’ is in boyfriend… and girlfriend.” 

He breaks out into his toothy smile. “It is. In both words.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira Crane is Mixed (Black and White). Her siblings are also Mixed (Black and White). Mrs. Crane is Black and Mr. Crane is White. 
> 
> The text is based on the book version of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. 
> 
> Warning: Possible secondhand embarrassment, Swearing, Mentions of implied hypothetical naughtiness, Scenes and mentions of terror and panic.

In the wee hours of August 25th, 1994, the Crane family found themselves huddled in a seemingly Muggle car. The family does not typically travel the way Muggles do, but when they do, they try to appear as incognito as possible. 

Ellwood Crane, a dark brown-haired wizard with a touch of pink complexion, grips his hands onto the steering wheel and appears to have memorized the route to Ottery St Catchpole… at least that’s what a Muggle thinks. Mr. Crane, in fact, enhanced the car before leaving Somerset so that the car drives them to their destination. Sitting next to him is Wilma Crane, his wife, who is a Black witch, with an umber complexion and long dark hair that is styled in twists. She watches her husband’s hands on the wheel to ensure that he looks convincing though she herself isn’t too sure as to what that would look like. 

In the back of the car sits the Crane siblings - sixteen(going on seventeen)-year-old Moira, twenty-one-year-old Bryn, and ten-year-old Angelica. Bryn dozes off with his face sticking onto the window. Angelica does the same, except her head rests against her sister’s upper arm. Moira, stuck in the middle, quietly reads. The Crane siblings share the same physical characteristics - thick and dark hair with loose curls and a tawny skin tone that somewhat varies according to the season. 

The car is relatively quiet for a pre-dawn drive… until the Crane car hits a randomly placed speed bump that awakens both Bryn and Angelica. 

“It’s alright. It’s what the Muggles call a speed bump… I think.” assures Mrs. Crane. 

“Dad… are we there yet?” whines a half-asleep Angelica, the youngest Crane, who looks like a younger variation of Moira, except her hair is shoulder length while Moira’s hair reaches her mid-back. 

“No, not yet,” answers Mrs. Crane who looks out the window and finds nothing but darkness. 

“Why couldn’t we just have Apparated to the World Cup?” asks Angelica. “Bryn could have done it.” 

“Because Moira wanted to see her boyfriend,” answers Bryn as he ruffles his short but lively hair. Moira shoots him a mean look.

“It’s safer to use the Portkey in larger groups,” explains Mr. Crane. 

“And the closest Portkey is in Ottery St Catchpole… which is only an hour away from Somerset,” argues Moira. 

“Right… and coincidentally, it’s where Cedric Diggory and his family live.” retorts a snarky Bryn. 

“Don’t be silly, Bryn. We invited them, remember?” reminds Mrs. Crane. “We’re traveling together and it only makes sense that we use a Portkey with a larger group.” 

“How long has it been anyway?” asks Moira, who has pretty much given up on reading her book. 

“About forty-five minutes,” says Mr. Crane in an enthusiastic tone that he hopes boosts the sleepy morale in the car. Bryn softly groans in the corner. 

“The match doesn’t happen until tonight. We have all the time in the world,” adds Mrs. Crane with the same intent. 

“But it’s not just any match, Mum. It’s the Quidditch World Cup finals!” corrects an excited Moira. “And, it’s Ireland versus Bulgaria. This… this is going to be the greatest match of all time!” 

Fifteen minutes later, the Cranes arrive at the Diggory house within the small and quiet village of Ottery St Catchpole. Two people are awaiting them just outside the house. The first person is Amos Diggory, a tall and ruddy-faced man, who enthusiastically waves at the family as they get out of the car. The second person is Cedric Diggory, Moira’s boyfriend of three years. 

Amos makes it a point to give every member of the Crane family a firm handshake. Cedric does the same, but when he sees Moira, he gives her a tight hug. As he is now six inches taller than his girlfriend, he slouches slightly to make his embrace more accessible. The young couple shares an almost too passionate kiss for the first time in two months. They forget at that moment that they have been sending letters to each other via owl every single day since the beginning of their summer break. 

The kiss is long and slow. Mrs. Crane clears her throat. 

“Sorry.” Moira and Cedric say in sync. 

“Mr. Weasley and his family will also be at the Portkey this morning so it could get a bit crowded.” Mr. Diggory says as he tries to forget what he just saw. “Shall we start walking?” 

In Moira’s mind, the hike to Stoatshead Hill, where the Portkey is placed, is a long and strenuous journey but at least she’s not alone. Mr. Crane and Mr. Diggory, who is slightly ahead of the group, are having a long and lively chat. Mrs. Crane is caught in what sounds like a chaotic debate between Bryn and Angelica. Moira, of course, hikes alongside Cedric who somewhat distracts from her physical exhaustion building in her body. 

“So… inappropriate kissing aside, how was the ride over here?” asks Cedric. 

“Quiet. Sleepy. Nothing particularly remarkable.” answers Moira. “I’ve been up since one in the morning so the sound of other voices is the only thing keeping me awake.” 

“I literally just woke up.” 

“Of course you did.” 

“Ready for the grand finale?”

“If I’m going to be hiking up this hill, Ireland better win.” 

Cedric chuckles in response. “You should get some rest before the match. Are we still planning on partying all night?” 

Moira smirks. “If Ireland wins, which you and I both know they will? Absolutely.” 

“And if Merlin forbids, Bulgaria wins… what would you like to do?” he cautiously asks. 

Looking around them, Cedric speaks with a lower tone. “I can think of something that you and I would both enjoy. Regardless of what happens, we’re either celebrating tonight… or we’re cheering each other up.” 

Moira softly chuckles at a volume that only Cedric can hear. The chuckle rejuvenates her exhaustion as the group ascends the hill. 

As they begin to walk on flatter ground again, everyone begins to search for the Portkey… which is meant to be something that no Muggle would ever think of touching. In this particular context, Moira thinks to herself, it certainly wouldn’t be a twig…. Or a rock… or a flower… or perhaps a…. 

“Ah! I’ve found it!” announces Mr. Diggory as he carefully picks up a large old moldy boot, something a Muggle would never think to fiddle with on any given day. He looks into the distance and yells “Over here, Arthur! We’ve found it. Over here, Cedric! You too, Cranes!” 

As Moira, Cedric, and the rest of the Cranes join Amos, they see a silhouette of a large group of people. A tall red-headed man, whom Moira guesses to be ‘Arthur’ emerges, and is soon followed by a group of familiar-looking and mostly red-headed teenagers, which makes her realize that ‘Arthur’ is Arthur Weasley. Mr. Weasley shakes hands with Mr. Diggory, Cedric, Mr. Crane, Mrs. Crane, Bryn, Angelica, and finally Moira herself. She believes that she might have met him in passing, but she can’t quite remember what the context might have been. 

As the four parents exchange whatever adults typically exchange on the top of the hill on an early morning, Moira shifts her gaze to the group of kids following Mr. Weasley. 

At a glance, Moira only recognizes Fred and George Weasley (who are in the same year as her and Cedric) and the ever so legendary Harry Potter, whose face is impossible to forget once you see him, but that’s only because his scar constantly ousts his identity. Moira has shared many classes with the notoriously mischievous twins as well as a few Quidditch matches. As Harry is two years below her, Moira has never shared a class with Harry, but she has seen him in action in Quidditch alongside the twins. All three boys are on the Gryffindor team. Standing next to Harry is another red-headed boy, presumably another Weasley, whom Moira has seen Harry hanging out with. 

“This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you all know his son, Cedric?” 

“Hi,” says Cedric as he looks amongst them. 

Most of the kids wave at him. The Weasley twins, on the other hand, give Cedric a slight stink eye. Moira finds the gesture slightly rude until she has a brief flashback of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match that took place last fall. 

To the best of her memory, Cedric and Harry were both chasing after the Golden Snitch and Harry fell off his broom, which… contributed, in her eyes, to Cedric’s capture of said Snitch. To his defense, Cedric, who is also the Hufflepuff Captain, did offer to replay the game, and Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, declined. Moira did later participate in decimating Hufflepuff the following game, which brings a smile to her face…. Until she then remembers that Gryffindor and Slytherin defeated them, bringing a slight grimace to her mind’s eye. All of a sudden, she vaguely understands the twins’ grudge… but only vaguely. 

The only two girls in the group, a brown frizzy-haired girl and a redhead who is presumably another Weasley, look at Cedric for a little too long… To send a non-hostile subtle signal to the girls, Moira reaches for his hand and he locks his hand into hers. The couple exchange loving smiles. The girls awkwardly take their gaze away and look at each other instead. Moira doesn’t entirely blame them for staring at her boyfriend. It’s no secret that Cedric is handsome. She is highly aware of the fact that many girls and boys at school have crushes on him. She knows that many people have pictured themselves in her position, but she tries her best not to let it all get into her head… until their projections become a little too obvious for her comfort. 

Mr. Weasley continues his introduction. “And this is Ellwood and Wilma Crane, whom I attended Hogwarts with. They own the Prophet.” 

The only teenagers in the group that react to this comment are Harry, the brown frizzy-haired girl whose name Moira can’t remember, and the redheaded girl. 

“… This here is Angelica, who’s joining you all next year,” Angelica shyly waves at the group. 

“Bryn, who graduated a few years ago,” Bryn literally raises his hand, and that is all anyone is getting from him. 

“And Moira, whom I think you all know as well?” 

“I recognize a few of you. Nice to see you all outside of the castle,” remarks Moira as she waves at them. All of the kids from Mr. Weasley’s group, including the twins, wave back. The twins’ passive-aggressive shift in attitude isn’t lost on Cedric. 

Mr. Diggory, for the first time, looks at the three Weasley boys, the Weasley girl, the frizzy-haired girl, and Harry. “All these yours, Arthur?” he asks. 

Mr. Weasley chuckles. “Oh no, only the redheads: Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. This is Hermione, a friend of Ron’s, and Harry, another friend -”

“-Merlin’s beard,” interrupts Mr. Diggory who is probably only saying out loud what Moira’s parents are both thinking, but wouldn’t dare blurt out loud. “Harry? Harry Potter?” 

Harry, who is visibly uncomfortable, answers anyway. “Er-yeah.”

An awkward pause takes over the group. 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Harry.” politely says Mrs. Crane, who seems to have detected Harry’s discomfort with Mr. Diggory’s fixation on his scar. 

“Yes, very nice, indeed,” adds Mr. Crane. 

“Ced’s talked about you, of course.” remarks a rather gleeful Mr. Diggory. “Told us all about playing against you last year… I said - Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren… That you beat Harry Potter!” 

As Mr. Diggory speaks, Moira shares a subtle sympathetic look with Cedric, whose eyes are screaming in sheer cringe. Fred and George are scowling. Harry is just speechless. Bryn, who is just living for the drama, hides his smile. Angelica, meanwhile, keeps batting her eyelashes at Harry. The rest of the group looks at the ground as they wait for the painful conversation to end. 

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad…” mutters Cedric. “I told you it was just an accident…” 

Mr. Diggory, who should have taken this as a signal to change subjects, goes in the opposite direction. “Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” he gloats as he slaps Cedric’s back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman… but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on. You don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier! Moira, you were there, weren’t you? Surely you can attest to that?” 

At this point, Cedric’s eyes widen in agonizing embarrassment. 

Moira makes out an “Er….” before Mr. Weasely, thank Merlin, cuts the conversation short, saying “Must be nearly time! We better get ready!”

Mr. Diggory places the boot on the ground. Mr. Weasley quickly talks Hermione and Harry through taking the Portkey, as everyone lies on the ground and huddles around the old boot. Moira settles on lying between Bryn and Cedric. Within a few seconds, Moira feels her stomach become sucked as she flys off the ground. She swirls and feels her feet fly off the ground. To make the process slightly easier, she closes her eyes and she spins and feels her body slam into either of Bryn and Cedric. Hoping that she’s calculating this correctly, she optimizes her chaotically moving body to have her feet land on the ground, which appears to have worked. 

Everything feels stable again. Moira opens her eyes and sees that her, Bryn, Cedric, Mr. Crane, Mrs. Crane, and Mr. Diggory are standing. Everyone else slams onto the ground, including poor Angelica. Moira helps up Angelica while Cedric kindly offers a hand to Harry, who accepts the gesture. 

“Thanks,” says Harry. Cedric awkwardly smiles at him.

After figuring out the logistics, which the adults figure out amongst themselves, the Cranes, Diggorys, and Weasleys go their separate ways. Moira and Cedric, still recovering from this morning’s kiss, wave each other off. 

A few hours later, the well-rested Crane family are entirely decked out in green as they make their way up to the best seats in the entire arena. En route, the Cranes trade aristocratic handshakes and hugs with various high-profile members of the ministry including Cornelius Fudge (the Minister of Magic himself), Mr. Oblansk (the Bulgarian Minister of Magic), The Malfoy Family (Moira recognizes Draco from Hogwarts and finds the child to be highly irritating), Ludo Bagman (the Head of Magical Games and Sports) and Barty Crouch Sr (Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation). Neither Moira nor her siblings properly knew any of these older men and found the social detours to be unnecessary, but alas… it comes with being a Crane. 

As the Cranes finally make it to their seats, they are delighted to see that Cedric and Mr. Diggory, both in green, had already settled in. Moira is seated between Cedric and Angelica, whom Mrs. Crane strategically arranges as a not-so-obvious “romantic buffer”, but Moira quickly figures out her mother’s hint. The group can see the Weasleys, who are a row below them. They all exchange festive waves with one another… this time without the inter-House Quidditch drama. 

“Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” announces Bagman. The crowd roars with excitement. 

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” The right scarlet side of the arena cheers on as the veela arrive and do what they do best: hypnotize every single man in the stadium. Moira rolls her eyes as she observes the beguiled men around her. She looks over at Cedric, who looks back at her with an unfazed expression. 

“You’re not…?” 

Cedric looks around him and thinks. “I don’t think so?”

Once the veela are gone, Bagman continues his announcement: 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!” 

One by one, the scarlet-clad players fly into the field on their broomsticks but there’s only one person that everyone is anticipating. The Bulgarian fans, as well as some Irish fans, lose their minds at the very sight of Victor Krum, a sallow eighteen-year-old with the bearing of a traditional warrior, who encourages the crowd to keep cheering. 

The Cranes and the Diggorys clap out of respect, but Krum’s charisma has no actual effect on the group whatsoever. 

Bagman speaks once more. “And now, please greet the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand… Lynch!” Moira, Cedric, and their families participate in the fanfare as their team flies across the arena. 

It was a game to end all games, a match to end all matches, and a plan to fulfill all plans. 

Several hours and a broken Krum nose later, the fields and tents outside of the arena are decked out in green shamrocks. Just as Moira hoped, Ireland won, which means that her exhaustion was not in vain. 

Given the occasion, Moira and Cedric manage to get permission to slip off into the celebrations. The young couple, who have their faces fully painted in white and green blend in perfectly with the other fans. Fan tunes compete with one another. The sober teenagers sing along with whatever they manage to make out at the top of their lungs as they rock and sway with the visibly drunk claustrophobic crowd. Over time, Moira manages to land into Cedric’s arms as they ecstatically laugh and begin to fully indulge in a kiss that was two months overdue. 

As they passionately make-out amongst the jamboree, the crowd’s screams increase into shrieks and instantly kills the mood. They look around them and see their fellow party-partakers running in several different directions amongst the screams. Moira and Cedric feel an unusual level of heat on their backs. They turn around… and see a wall of fire approaching. As the crowds begin to scatter, they see a group of masked and hooded figures slowly but menacingly strut through the fire. 

The young lovers take this as their signal to flee the scene. Moira tries to quickly calculate the safest route to take, but Cedric simply grabs her arm and drags her into a sprint. 

She begins to panic. “What about my family? What about your dad?”

“They won’t be able to find us if we’re dead!” he fires back as they speed through the crowd. 

“In that case, we should get to the forest. We’ll be able to hide there! If only I had my bloody Apparition license right now!” complains Moira as they dodge runners in various directions. 

“No offense, but I would very much prefer to Apparate for the first time under calmer circumstances!” responds Cedric. 

They continue to run as the fires and group grow closer and closer. A group of runners, who seem to have resembled teenage girls, mindlessly but violently knock the pair down. Moira helps Cedric up and they keep moving until they enter the forest. 

Extremely exhausted, the couple slowly come to a stop and hide between a few tall trees. Both their ears ring at an extremely high pitch, which muffles the sounds of the distanced terror. 

“You alright?” asks Cedric, with a broken voice from all of the screaming. 

Moira nods. She tries to speak, but it comes out as a soft scratchy whisper. She raises the volume of her voice. “You?”

He nods. 

The fatigue of the entire day begins to truly manifest in their bodies. As tempted as they are to either crouch or place their hands on their knees and stare at the ground, they force themselves to stand and keep themselves alert. 

“Ced?” asks Moira in between pants as her voice slowly recovers. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that it’s illegal for us to use ‘Lumos’? In case we have to venture down the forest?” 

Cedric thinks about the question for a moment while catching his breath. “I don’t reckon, no. But the fire’s so bright that I don’t think that it’ll be necessary… for now at least.” 

“Fair enough,” concludes Moira. 

As she looks at Cedric as his face becomes profusely illuminated by a flash of green. Cedric sees the same illumination on Moira’s face. They look to the sky and see a glistening green form rising. It forms into a menacing green skull with a snake slithering from its mouth. Cedric’s mouth becomes agape while Moira’s eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Is that…? Is that…?” he struggles to finish his question but he knows exactly what it is. She does too. They both dare not say it out loud, but they both know what The Dark Mark is… and what it represents. It is something that they’ve only seen in history textbooks and imagined in stories exchanged through hurried whispers… but its true depiction is far more terrifying. 

“Mmmm…” she hums. 

The snap of the twig brings their attention back to the earth. A tall and lean figure emerges from the dark. Their hearts drop to the bottom of their feet. Moira feels her lips and her breath quiver. Her hands soon follow. 

“I don’t want to take any chances tonight.” nervously states Moira in a low voice, who does her very best to transfer her fear into her stomach. Her hands vibrate as she attempts to sneakily reach for her wand, which is in the back pocket of her jeans. Cedric reaches for his wand as well. 

“Wands up?” he whispers. 

She nods.

“Now?” 

“Now.”

The underaged couple, knowing full well what the consequences may hold for them, quickly pull out their wands and point them toward the figure. They slowly approach the figure with the intent to show no mercy. The figure waves their wand, and the pair immediately mentally scramble and freeze. 

“Lumos!” The figure’s wand illuminates their face, revealing it to be Bryn, whose face is covered in ash and soot. The three of them pause, stare at one another and put their wands away. 

“Bloody hell, Bryn!” exclaims Moira as she and Cedric approach her brother. 

“I have to say that I’m impressed that both of your instinctive reactions were to reach for your wands even though you’re both coming of age in the fall.” 

“Bryn, did you not look at the sky?” asks a calmer Cedric, who decides that he should cut in before his girlfriend pounces at her brother. 

Bryn evidently did not, as he looks up to the sky and takes in the Mark. His confident and headstrong body language shrinks into a downtrodden slouch. He turns to the teenagers. 

“You both alright?” Bryn asks in a kinder tone. 

“What do you think?” scowls a grimacing Moira. “Where’s Mum, Dad, and Angelica?” 

Bryn takes a deep breath and visibly holds himself to feign a lack of fear. “Dad went to help the Ministry. He told me to look for you. Mum and Angelica made a run for it. Grab my shoulders, both of you.” 

“Where are we going?” asks Moira. 

“Back to the tent,” answers Bryn. 

“Is it even safe to return?” wonders Cedric. 

“The screaming stopped, so I reckon it must be safer,” argues Bryn. “There’s only one way to find out. If it’s still dangerous, we’ll just Apparate elsewhere.” 

Moira and Cedric shrug. The three of them Disapparate from the forest deep and Apparate back inside the Crane tent. Mrs. Crane, who is working through a moving picture puzzle with Angelica, gets up and immediately brings Bryn and Moira into a tight hug. Cedric awkwardly stands in the corner. 

“Come over here, Cedric!” beckons Mrs. Crane. He joins the group hug. Angelica gets up from the table and joins the group hug. 

“Are you all okay?” asks the concerned mother, who immediately notices that Cedric is feeling quite nauseous, a common side effect of Apparating for the first time. 

Mrs. Crane guides him to their restroom while the Crane siblings remain in the kitchen. Moira joins Angelica in solving her puzzle while Bryn attempts to wash off the ash and soot on his face in the kitchen sink. 

“Did you both see that Mark in the sky?” blurts out Angelica. 

“We all did.” answers a still jumpy Moira. 

“Do… you think that it was…You-Know-Who?” Angelica asks a second time. 

Moira pauses and presses a little too hard on the jigsaw piece she just placed while Bryn halts his scrubbing. Both elder siblings turn to stare at Angelica. A deafening silence takes over for a few seconds, but it is interrupted by Cedric and Mrs. Crane re-entering the room. 

“What’s all this?” asks Mrs. Crane who can feel the iciness between her three children. 

“We’re talking about The Mark.” nonchalantly answers Angelica after a few seconds. “Mum, do you think that it was You-Know-Who?” 

Mrs. Crane freezes up. She pinches her nose bridge and takes a deep breath. “Sit down.” She commands the four kids. “All of you.” 

The four children sit around the dining table as she hurriedly grabs a glass from one of the cupboards and fills it with water. She hands it to Cedric, who immediately drinks it. “You okay?” Moira asks him. He nods. 

Mrs. Crane distributes a few more glasses of water around the table before joining them. She chugs down her glass as though it was hard alcohol and takes another deep breath. 

“The answer is that I don’t know, Angelica… but what I can say is that the only people who know that spell are the Death Eaters themselves. That’s not something you learn at Hogwarts on any given day,” explains Mrs. Crane with a grave expression.

“I thought he was gone,” remarks Cedric in between sips. 

“Gone, not dead.” corrects Mrs. Crane. 

“Did you know that those figures were torturing the Muggles and Muggle-borns? A few were floating up in the air,” asks Bryn. 

Moira and Cedric shake their head as they picture it. Moira deduces that they were in such a frenzy that they barely took in what was going on. 

“I saw that in between the chaos. They… the Death Eaters… used to conjure up that Mark after they terrorized and murdered Muggles, Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, and anyone who stood in their way.” continues Mrs. Crane. 

“So is he back?” asks Moira. 

Mrs. Crane stressfully shrugs. 

“He has to be, right?” insists Moira. “Especially if it’s clear that there aren’t any sycophants but only acolytes of He Who Must Not Be Named…” 

“We don’t know… And… terrifying as this may be, we mustn’t jump to conclusions yet… not until we have proof,” replies Mrs. Crane. 

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Can’t we just call it what it blatantly is?!” insists Moira once more. 

“Because that, dear Moira, is a heavy accusation to make.” answers a voice behind them. The group turns around and sees Mr. Diggory and Mr. Crane, who appears to have just walked into the tent. 

“The Ministry and everyone else is just as worked up about this as you are… and we’re all drawing the same conclusions… but whoever did it Dissipated before we could catch them.” continues Mr. Diggory. 

A relieved Cedric rises from his chair and bolts over to his father where they share a tight embrace. 

“Are you hurt?” asks a worried Mr. Diggory. 

“I was slightly ill from, er, Apparating. Other than that, I’m fine,” explains Cedric, who immediately reads his father’s anxiety. “I didn’t… no. Byrn found us and Apparated back to the tent.” 

“Ah.” is Mr. Diggory’s only response. As much as Cedric found his father to be occasionally overbearing, he understood his father’s concern. Cedric is his only son… and only child. 

While the Diggorys catch up, Mr. Crane hugs and kisses the forehead of Bryn, Moira, and Angelica. He and Mrs. Crane, of course, share a relieved lover’s embrace. Their children awkwardly turn away during this embrace. 

“Ellwood, Wilma, what’s your exit plan?” asks Mr. Diggory as he and his son congregate with the Cranes around the table. 

“We should get out of here as soon as possible.” Mr. Crane answers without delay. 

“I concur,” says Mr. Diggory. 

“Though we should rest for a few hours before journeying back,” suggests Mrs. Crane. Mr. Crane nods. 

Mr. Diggory nods. 

After agreeing on a set time, the Diggorys and the Cranes exchange good nights. Moira goes in to share a tight hug with Cedric.

Aware of the fact that their families are watching them, Cedric gives her a quick polite kiss on the cheek. Moira does the same. After the Diggorys leave, the Cranes look amongst each other as they try to compute the night. 

“Right.” begins Mr. Crane. “Let’s-” 

“-Dad! What’d you see with Mr. Diggory?” interrupts Moira. 

“We didn’t catch anyone… except a house-elf.” sighs Mr. Crane. 

“Elves can’t conjure Marks like that,” remarks Moira. 

“I know… I know… It’s a long story… I…” Mr. Crane’s sigh is a drawled exhaustion. It’s clearly been a long night for him. “I think we should call it a night… Or morning… Hard to say. Let’s be up in a few hours.”

The Cranes tidy up and head for bed. The Crane siblings head off into one room while Mr. and Mrs. Crane head off into their own bedroom. Moira feels as though the three of them are children going camping all over again as they slump into their beds.

“I’m sorry I scared everyone,” says Angelica. “I just wanted to know so that we could be prepared.” 

Bryn and Moira, exchange a look of concern and look to their younger sister with a face of pained empathy. The siblings enter their own strange group hug. 

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re all thinking the same thing. You’re just brave enough to say it out loud.” assures Moira. 

“And you have every right to ask that question. I have a feeling that everyone is going to be asking about what happened for a while…” adds Bryn. 

After a few seconds, the Crane siblings break their hug and return to their respective beds. The lights are switched off. Moira closes her eyes and she sees the Death Mark all over again. She immediately opens them. She tosses, turns, and tries to close her eyes again. The green flash comes back. She reopens her eyes and settles on staring at the ceiling for the next few hours. 

She hears a creaking sound from outside of her room. She grabs her wand and slowly sneaks out of the door. 

She sees her father, Mr. Crane, sulking at the dining table. He notices Moira. 

“Can’t sleep as well?” he asks. She nods. 

“Every time I close my eyes, I can’t stop seeing the -” 

“I know.” 

Moira joins her father at the table. “What’s the Prophet going to say about it?” she asks. 

He lets out a faint laugh. “I don’t know yet… Our entire world must have heard about it by now. The editor’s going to have to make the call here but I’m afraid the Ministry might just intervene…” 

Moira takes this in and nods.“Do you think that they’ll let them announce it?” 

He shrugs. “I suppose we’ll find out later, won’t we?” 

She nods in agreement. Mr. Crane beckons her into a comforting hug. 

A few hours later, the Cranes and the Diggorys travel back to Ottery St Catchpole, once again by Portkey. 

Upon the group’s arrival back at the Diggory house, a reasonably upset Mrs. Diggory comes back outside to embrace both her husband and son.

“I heard about last night. Are you both alright?” she asks her husband and son. They both nod. 

Philomena Diggory, better known to Moira as Mrs. Diggory, is a sweet soul with long brown hair and gray eyes. She speaks with an enchanting serene voice that never triggers distress. Moira strongly believes that Cedric gets his personality (and looks) from her. Mrs. Diggory turns her attention to the Crane family. 

“Ellwood… Wilma… Children… are you all alright?”

The exhausted family nods. 

“I made some breakfast. You should all eat and reset before the drive back,” says Mrs. Diggory. Everyone heads inside. 

As the Diggorys and Cranes sit around the table for breakfast, an owl drops a copy of the Daily Prophet by the kitchen window. Mr. Crane and Mr. Diggory rush over to see what’s inside the paper. After an intense staredown between the two men, it is politely decided that Mr. Crane ought to read the paper first. Mr. Crane then insists that Mr. Diggory reads it before him. 

As the men sit back down at the table, Mr. Diggory skims the article and becomes visibly troubled. 

“Dad, what’s wrong?” asks a worried Cedric. Mr. Diggory doesn’t respond. 

“Amos,” asks Mr. Crane. “What does the paper say?” 

Mr. Diggory slides the paper over to Mr. Crane, who slowly reads the front-page article. Mrs. Crane peaks over and glowers. 

The more he reads, Moira observes, the redder his face becomes. “Fucking Merlin! Who let Skeeter publish this rubbish?” explodes Mr. Crane as he tosses the paper onto the table. “If I knew she was going to cover this, I would have written the bloody thing myself! For fuck’s sake, the Ministry’s going to think I approved this!” 

As Mr. Crane continues to rage and swear at the table, Moira picks up the paper. The headline reads: 

SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP 

Moira notes Skeeter’s mentions of “ministry blunders”, “lax security”, “national disgrace”, “Dark wizards running unchecked” and many dangerous accusations. Skeeter, as Moira reads, seems to imply that bodies were removed from the forest. Whether that’s true or not no longer seems to matter now, as the Ministry and Mr. Crane have a hailstorm to handle. Realizing that both Mr. Diggory and Mr. Crane will have to go to the Ministry to handle the mess that Skeeter has created, breakfast ends prematurely. 

As the two families exchange goodbyes, Cedric and Moira share a quick and polite peck on the lips. 

“I don’t know if I ever said it yesterday, and I’m sorry if I didn’t, but I just wanted you to know that I love you. So much.” says a slightly choked up Cedric, who is still clearly shaken by the events of last night. 

Moira breaks out into an emotional smile. “I love you too. And you don’t have to apologize to me. Ever. ” 

They share a tight hug and kiss again before she heads back into the Crane family car. 

Cedric, despite his obvious exhaustion, waves off the Diggorys as they drive off. Moira, who now has a window seat, waves back. They keep waving until Cedric becomes a spec in the distance. 

Mr. Crane once again pretends to drive back to Somerset. The Cranes would spend the next few days dissecting the events of last night before Unspeakable work would resume for Bryn (he works at the Department of Mysteries and his job is strictly confidential) and before the school year would start again for Moira and Angelica.

In the mind of Moira Crane, last night was supposed to be “perfect”. Ireland would have still won the Quidditch World Cup. She and her boyfriend would have celebrated in the glorious aftermath and shared a few inappropriate kisses, amongst other things, under the stars. Instead, Moira had the worst end of summer that one could ever imagine. 

Perhaps the new year at Hogwarts could be the perfect antidote.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira Crane and Angelica Crane are Mixed (Black and White). Mrs. Crane is Black and Mr. Crane is White. Salvia Boswell is Black. The text is based on the book version of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire.

It has been exactly a week since The Quidditch World Cup, but it feels as though it has been hours in Moira’s mind as Mr. Crane, Mrs. Crane, and Angelica accompany her through King’s Cross Station. Bryn wanted to come along, but his work as an Unspeakable held him back. She senses that the mood, which is usually excitingly chaotic, is dampened for obvious reasons. 

“I think that you’ll find this particular year exciting.” Mr. Crane remarks to his eldest daughter as he tries to break the ice. 

“And what makes you think that?” asks Moira. 

Mr. and Mrs. Crane look at each other and smile. 

“You’ll find out soon enough.” vaguely answers Mrs. Crane. 

“Is this about-” Angelica begins to innocently ask, but Mrs. Crane quickly covers her mouth and shoots her a concerned look. Angelica instantly becomes quiet. 

They keep moving through the station. The Diggorys sneak up and surprise the Cranes. As Mr. and Mrs. Crane catch up with Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, Cedric nonverbally signals Moira to move behind the group. The pair slowly push their trolleys as the families chat and walk.

“Are you alright?” asks Cedric. 

Moira raises an eyebrow at the question and laughs a little. “Of course I am, Cedric.”

“No, what I mean is… How are you? How have you been since… you know…”

Moira is silent for a few moments before speaking in a lower tone. “I don’t know. It’s been…Weird. I can’t quite explain it… But I can say that I have never seen my parents so worked up in my entire life. We talked about what happened but it’s just so odd… They’ve been paranoid since everything happened. They don’t show it, but I can feel it… How are you?” 

Cedric shrugs and leans closer to Moira. “I don’t know either. My parents tried to talk about what happened… and they’re trying to stay positive… but they’re clearly terrified… I overheard them murmuring in the kitchen late at night and it’s obviously about… You-Know-Who. It’s like… it’s like they know something that I don’t.” 

“Train now, chit-chat later, lovebirds!” interrupts Mrs. Diggory. The young couple does their best to not look suspicious. 

Moira enters through the solid barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten and arrives at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Cedric and the others quickly follow. 

Without delay, the families tearfully hug as Moira and Cedric prepare to re-enter the train. 

“Have a good year, make sound decisions, and stay absolutely safe,” advises Mrs. Crane.

“I’ll be fine!” says Moira. 

“We mean it! Keep both eyes and both ears open,” adds Mr. Crane before he and his wife give Moira a tight hug. 

Angelica embraces her sister. “Don’t forget I’m joining you next year.” 

“I certainly won’t,” notes Moira. The Cranes go for one final group hug before Moira hops onto the train. She waits as Cedric is tightly squeezed by his parents. He sees his parents say something to him with a concerned look on their face, which Moira assumes is a variation of what her own parents said. Once Cedric hops onto the train, the couple wave at their families for one last time before the train takes off. 

Onboard the Hogwarts Express, Moira and Cedric share a compartment with Roger Davies of Ravenclaw, a pale and dark-haired Welsh wizard, and Salvia Boswell of Hufflepuff, a sepia-toned Afro-Scottish witch with long dark box-braids. They are self-proclaimed “Ravenpuff Gang”. 

Moira and Roger came up with the name after they all joined the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams. Cedric thought that “Huffleclaw” might have been a better name, but he was outvoted by everyone else, including Salvia. 

It seems that the hot topic of the moment is not the disaster of the Quidditch Cup itself, but the aftermath. Everyone knows of the Mark, but no one dares speak of it. 

“My brother says that the Ministry’s a mess right now… and they’re fuming over the Prophet article,” remarks Roger. 

“We had nothing to do with that!” adds Moira. “My dad was red when he read what Skeeter had to say.” 

“What does Skeeter have against the Ministry?” asks Salvia. Moira shrugs. 

“And how did she even manage to write the article? Was there really no one else?” complains Salvia. 

Moira shrugs once more. “I’m literally the last person you should be asking. My father hasn’t told me anything since he read the article. He’s been too busy fighting with everyone.” 

Moira isn’t exaggerating. After the events of what she personally refers to as “That Night”, Mr. Crane had split his time between defending the Daily Prophet, salvaging his friendships within the Ministry of Magic, and yelling at numerous faces in the fireplace. Despite his best efforts to get rid of Skeeter, the Editor in Chief insists on keeping her, stating that her headline made that issue the most sold newspaper of all time. 

“My dad said that the Ministry’s now worked up over future security issues,” says Cedric, who has spoken for the first time in thirty minutes. He isn’t much of a talker in group settings but when he does speak, he always makes the most sense. 

“For what? Aside from the Cup, the Ministry never hosts anything,” asks Moira. 

He shrugs. “I said the same thing, but Dad said it wasn’t for him to say.” 

“How noble,” remarks Salvia as she pops a few sweets in her mouth. 

Roger prepares to say something but then decides against it, which Moira instantly notices. “Go on, Roger,” insists Moira. 

“Did anyone else see that we had to pack dress robes this year?“ asks Roger. "Did anyone actually do it?”

“Did you not pack your dress robes?” asks Salvia. 

“Of course I did! My mum insisted. We got into an argument about it, but I ended up bringing it with me to make her happy.” responds Roger. 

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t pack them. When have we packed something that we never ended up using?” says Cedric. 

“We’re going to find out eventually, right?” concludes Moira. The group shrugs amongst themselves.

“What about you, Moira? Did you pack anything?” asks Roger. 

Moira vividly recalls her mother wrapping a dress and a pair of shoes and placing them in one of her suitcases. She noticed that it was sealed with a ribbon and enchanted with a time-sensitive spell. 

“Do not unwrap this before it’s due time,” warned Mrs. Crane. 

“Why not? It’s my dress…” asked Moira. 

“Moira, Trust me on this one.” Mrs. Crane assured her with a wink.

Moira shakes off the memory and answers Roger’s question. “Why would I not?” 

Several hours later, the quartet walks up the grand stairs of Hogwarts castle for the sixth time. As they make their way through the corridors that lead to The Great Hall, they overhear a group of lower-year girls shrieking. They turn around and see Peeves, the Hogwarts poltergeist, throwing water balloons at them. 

“PEEVES!” shouts a fuming Professor McGonagall from the distance. The Ravenpuff gang laughs at the scene, but they quickly move along before the professor screaming at the childish ghost could inflict her fury onto them. 

Once inside, the group waves each other off as they split into the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. As Moira and Roger walk over to their table, Roger spots a familiar face and halts Moira. 

“Roger, what are you doing?” asks Moira. 

“Sit with me and Cho.’’ pleads Cedric. 

“What? Why?” 

“So that Clara doesn’t go crazy.” 

Moira sighs at the idea. “Fine, but you owe me. Big time.” 

The friends rush over to sit next to Cho Chang, a fifth-year student who is the Seeker on their Quidditch team. She is also the current object of Roger’s affections, much to the potential dismay of Clara Zwybury, his ex-sort-of-girlfriend. 

The beginning of the year at Hogwarts starts off the same exact way: with the Sorting Ceremony. The only thing that truly differs is the incoming students, the Hat’s opening song, perhaps a slight fluctuation in the staff as made obvious by the empty chair at the teacher’s table. 

“Has anyone seen the new Defense Against the Arts professor yet?” asks Cho. The two sixth-years shrug. 

Moira still finds the ceremony endearing to watch. Every student that is sorted into Ravenclaw immediately takes her back to her sorting. Looking back on the moment, she isn’t all that surprised that she ended up at Ravenclaw. Her parents were in Ravenclaw, as was Bryn, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Angelica is sorted into Ravenclaw next year. It’s quite common for families to be sorted into the same House. Roger’s brother was also sorted into Ravenclaw, Cedric’s parents were both Hufflepuff students, and Moira is confident that she heard Salvia comment that her much older sister and cousins were in Hufflepuff. Moira entertains the idea of greeting her sister the way her brother did back then. Grinning at the idea, she makes a mental note of it and stores it into the back of her mind to revisit when that moment comes… if it does. Although many families wind up being sorted into the same Houses, there are always exceptions. 

Though she claps for every student, Moira only becomes excited when Stewart Ackerley, Emma Dobbs, Orla Quirke, and many other first-years are sorted into Ravenclaw. 

The students spend about two hours catching up and gobbling up food. Roger tries his best to flirt with Cho while Moira acts as the third wheel and laughs along with Roger’s bad jokes. Cho seems to be more interested in hearing about Moira’s summer than she is about hearing about Roger’s. Moira, however, does her best to detract attention from herself and help her guy friend woo his newest love interest. 

Once the food is gone, Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts stands up, which immediately silences the student body. The only thing that anyone in the room can hear is the ongoing rain shower outside. He smiles around the round and begins his speech by listing off the newly banned items for the school year (which no one ever adheres to). He iterates that the Forbidden Forest is, well, forbidden, and reminds everyone that only third-years and older can go to Hogsmeade. 

“Nothing new,” remarks Roger. “I don’t see why he had to get all dramatic about it.” 

Dumbledore pauses for a moment and seemingly smirks before continuing. 

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.” 

“WHAT?!” cries out a bamboozled Moira, Chaser of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, as she mentally declares this to be the worst start of year ever. All of the Quidditch players throughout the four Houses in the room gasp. Captain Roger Davies of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, upon hearing this, chokes on his drink and coughs loudly for the entire room to hear. Cho awkwardly pats on his back. Not at all fazed by the silent outrage that is beginning to spread onto the rest of the students, Dumbledore continues to speak. 

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy… But I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely.” 

Moira raises her eyebrow at the speech.

“I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -” 

Dumbledore is interrupted by the doors of the Great Hall opening. A cloaked man walks down the hall and is illuminated by a flash of lightning that manifests on the ceiling, instantly scaring the students. It would be an understatement to say that his face is rather unusual. His face is completely scared, and his eyes are of different colors. His small dark eye appears to be his own while his larger bright blue eye appears to be an ingrained patch. The blue eye seems to have a mind of its own as it bounces about. 

The man reaches Dumbledore, who shakes his scarred hand and gestures the man to the empty seat at the teacher’s table. He sits and eats some of the food that is set aside for the teachers. Everyone, including some of the professors, is fixated on the man’s appearance. 

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody.”

Whenever a new staff member is introduced at Hogwarts, everyone usually greets them with applause. No one in the Hall claps except for Dumbledore and Hagrid, who quickly ceases their clapping upon reading the room. Awkward. 

Moira frowns at the announcement. “It’s a shame, really. I quite liked Lupin,” she whispers to Roger and Cho. 

“Didn’t Snape say he was a werewolf?” asks Cho in a hushed tone.

“Yeah.. and then Lupin had to retire… All thanks to Professor Severus Snape,” confirms Roger, who speaks at a similar volume. 

“Bastard.” quietly laments Moira. 

“Aren’t you taking potions with him?” asks Roger. 

“Aren’t you?” retorts Moira. “Besides, I would have been perfectly happy with a werewolf professor. I don’t think that makes him dangerous. I think it makes him bloody cool. He was the best Defense professor we ever had and I was genuinely looking forward to taking my NEWT classes with him!” 

“Perhaps Snape got jealous.” theorizes Roger. 

Cho silently urges Moira and Roger to bring their attention back to Dumbledore, who is currently re-gathering his thoughts before he continues speaking. 

“As I was saying… We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.” 

Moira suddenly realizes that perhaps this isn’t the worst start to the year after all.

“You’re JOKING!” yells Fred Weasley. The entire room, including Dumbledore, breaks into laughter. The Head of School continues speaking. “I am not joking, Mr. Weasley, though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…” 

Professor McGonagall clears her throat. Dumbledore notices the not so subtle signal and continues talking.

“Er… but maybe this is not the time… no…. Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A Champion was selected to represent each school, and the three Champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities… until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.” 

The mention of a “death toll” does not bother most people in the room, including Moira. 

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament… None of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no Champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.” 

Dumbledore quickly rests his throat before he speaks once more. This has been the longest that he has spoken at any major assembly since Moira started at Hogwarts. 

“The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three Champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.” 

Everyone at that moment begins to fantasize about holding the Cup in their hands… and spending a thousand Galleons. Moira was initially intrigued by the concept of the Tournament but now she is slowly becoming seduced by the idea… “Slowly” being the keyword. 

Dumbledore observes the fervent daydreaming taking place and hears some of the whispers beginning to form in the Hall. He opens his mouth, and everyone is instantly silenced. 

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age, that is to say, seventeen years or older, will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration.” 

Numerous students begin to murmur and vocally protest the policy. Moira is briefly crushed… until she remembers that she’ll be turning seventeen on October 21st… ten days before the selection! 

Dumbledore raises his voice slightly to gain back control of the Hall. “This… is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts Champion. I, therefore, beg you to not waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.” 

Moira knows for a fact that this will not stop underage students from attempting to enter, but at least it will make for great entertainment. 

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts Champion when he or she is elected…” Dumbledore pauses again. “And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!” 

As everyone begins to exit, Cho looks to Moira and Roger and asks the question of the hour “So, are either of you thinking of submitting your names?” 

Roger laughs. “I don’t think so. Death-defying tasks aren’t really my thing.” 

“I’m doing it.” blurts out Moira, who blinks rapidly and is taken aback by what she just said out loud. Cho is awed by Moira’s statement. Roger laughs in amazement and gives her a bro-ish slam on the back as Moira reexamines what she just verbally committed to doing in front of her friends. They continue to walk and maintain personal space amongst the crowd. 

“I mean… I’d love to do it.” continues Moira. “I don’t turn seventeen until next month so… I’ll think about it.” 

“You should do it, Moira!” urges Cho. 

“You’d be bloody brilliant! You’re practically an Auror,” states Roger nonchalantly. 

“Roger, I’m not-” tries to correct Moira, but… 

“You have the OWLs for it,” argues Roger. 

“We’re taking the same classes!” also reminds Moira. 

“Everything except Divination.” corrects Roger. “Aside from that, yes… I really can’t think of anyone else who could pull it off… anyone else in our House, at least.” 

At that moment, Moira thinks that she might have just found her antidote… maybe. 

The next morning, Moira and Cedric have breakfast together. They exchange adorable first-year stories from their Houses, but as they look at each other, they both appear to be slightly out of it in the eyes of the other. 

“You have something on your mind,” observes Cedric. 

“As do you,” notes Moira. 

The couple has a friendly staredown as they wait for the other to speak first. It only lasts about ten seconds.

“I want your opinion on something.” cracks Cedric. 

“Go on, then,” she replies with a cheeky smirk as she eats her breakfast. 

“I’m thinking of submitting my name for the Tournament. Do you reckon that I should do it?” asks Cedric. 

The idea in itself brings a smile to Moira’s face. The image of Cedric winning feels more natural to her than the idea of Moira herself winning… let alone being selected. 

“You should do it!” exclaims Moira.

Cedric is pleasantly surprised by her response. “You think so? You don’t think that…” 

“I think you’d do great in the competition! And your father would be so happy about it.” 

He cringes slightly. “He’d be boasting about it forever.” 

“Better than receiving a singular Howler from both your parents,” notes Moira, making Cedric let out a chuckle.

“Alright, your turn,” says Cedric. 

Moira quickly psyches herself up and says. “I was also thinking of submitting my name for the Tournament… What do you think? Should I go for it?” Moira tries to read his facial expression and body language. 

“Do it.” instantly answers Cedric with a warm smile. 

“What?” 

“Submit your name.” 

He pauses and notes her confused expression. “Did you think I was going to talk you out for it? You know I’d never do that…” 

“No, of course not,” she answers. “I just think… I do think that I have a chance… and that you also have a chance…perhaps a better chance now that I think about it.” 

He nods. “I would say that you’re smarter and more valiant than I am…which is why you should submit your name.” insists Cedric. “You’d have a better chance of getting selected than I would.” 

“You’re being overly modest again.” politely argues Moira. 

“And you’re underestimating yourself again.” politely retorts Cedric. “But we have plenty of time to think it over, don’t we? I mean, we’re not even seventeen yet.” 

“But we will be when the Goblet comes! That being said, you should submit your name,” states Moira. 

Cedric nods again. “I’ll do it if you do it.” 

Moira lightly groans and hopes that he doesn’t hear it… but he does. 

“You and I both know that you should do it. You want to do it, and you’re absolutely certain that you do. I saw that spark in your eyes when you asked for my opinion on entering… What’s stopping you from at least trying?”

She nods. “You’re absolutely right… though I could say the same for you.” They confusedly laugh as both begin to become frazzled by the discussion. “We’re gonna keep going in circles about this, aren’t we?” she wonders. 

“It seems so,” concludes Cedric. 

Moira reflects on his previous words for a moment and shrugs. “But you’re right. Nothing’s stopping us really… Either one of us gets picked, or neither of us does…” 

She pauses as a candle lights up in her head. She shrugs at the mental candle. “Alright. Let’s bloody do it. In fact… let’s do it together. Deal?” She says as she offers her hand to her boyfriend. He happily takes her hand. 

“Deal.” 

They shake hands on it. All they have to do now is wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira Crane is Mixed (Black and White). Salvia Boswell is Black. The text is based on the book version of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. It also makes references to scenes featured in the film adaptation.

For the rest of September and the entirety of October, the air of Hogwarts is filled with high functioning anxiety. Several of the professors are becoming increasingly intense, the castle is being cleaned repeatedly, and the student body keeps trying to guess who might submit their names to become Hogwarts Champion. Although the selected student represents Hogwarts as a whole, the Houses are making their own little nominations… not that The Goblet would know the difference… or even care for it.

Moira knows that Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor, whom she knows through Quidditch, is thinking of submitting her name. She has also heard that the Weasley twins, though underaged, are adamant about entering. Apparently, Cassius Warrington of Slytherin is entertaining the possibility. The students of Hufflepuff are informally endorsing Cedric as the potential Hogwarts Champion, and have been gloating about it after he became of age on September 17th. The Ravenclaw students, thanks to Cho and Roger, are encouraging Moira, who became of age on October 21st, to submit her name.

Moira’s classes have been somewhat impacted by the occasion. McGonagall is insisting that no one messes up their spells in front of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Moody, to her surprise, has been surprisingly informative and effective. He is extremely unafraid to demonstrate his unhappiness with your effort or conduct, as Moira and the Ravenpuff gang witnessed him transfigure Draco Malfoy into a ferret a while back. Given his background as an Auror, Moira supposes that harshness comes with the territory. Despite her growing appreciation for Moody, she still misses having Lupin around. Flitwick, her Charms professor, and Sprout, her Herbology professor, have managed to maintain their sweet demeanor despite the upcoming occasion. Snape is well… Snape.

Professor Trelawney, who teaches Divination, has been usually unusual. The few students in the class repeatedly ask if she can See the outcome of The Triwizard Tournament. Trelawney has typically responded with “The Inner Eye never Sees upon command!”, but on October 30th, she halts her class mid-lecture and exclaims:

“Twain!”

Moira, along with the few students in the class, places their quills down and listen intently as Trelawney appears to enter a trance and begins to speak:

“Trust the inferno as it blazes in twain… Do not fear it, as the elements work in your favor… As does the feather… Save the other…And the other will save you.”

Within seconds, Professor Trelawney appears to awaken from her trance. Moira is taken aback by the words. At the same time, she is vividly confused by this… prophecy? Vision? Whatever it is supposed to be, Moira quickly jots down the words and notes the date: October 30th, 1994. She underlines the words “twain” and “other” (which Trelawney pronounces with great emphasis) and tells herself that she’ll attempt to understand it later

Later, the tension in the air reaches its climax as students huddle around the windows to see the arrival of the other schools. Moira and Salvia make their way to the windows to see two lines, the beefy Durmstrang men all dressed in black and the girl Beauxbattons in soft blue, entering the castle for the first time in centuries. Moira is impressed with the sight… while Salvia is drooling. “Do you think we’re allowed to ‘fraternize’ with the students?” asks Salvia, who earns a laugh from her friend.

“I personally will not be partaking in the inter-school fraternizing, but you absolutely should… It’s not like you’re going to get the chance again,” answers Moira.

“Thank you for validating me, Moira. I love you.” says a gleeful Salvia as she affectionately embraces Moira, who is ticklish from the touch.

Salvia and Moira walk together to the Great Hall. The latter nods as the former’s imagination run wild after checking out the Durmstrang men. Once they’re inside the Hall, the girls wave each other off and go back to their tables.

“Oi Moira!” cries out Roger, who is once again seated next to Cho. “We saved you a seat.”

Shortly after Moira takes her seat, Dumbledore stands. Once again, the Hall is instantly silenced.

“The time has come to welcome our guests for the Triwizard Tournament!”

The students ecstatically clap, scream, and cheer. The excitement is deafening.

“Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their Head Mistress, Madame Maxime!”

The Beauxbatons girls, who are French, gallop across the Great Hall. The girls are all decked out in soft blue dresses and witch hats. They conjure glittery clouds and butterflies wherever they go. Moira could swear that one of them was cartwheeling her way through the Hall. As the girls sway about, many of them earn fluttering eyelashes from many of the Hogwarts kids. Behind the Beauxbatons girls follow a gigantic woman, who must be Madame Maxime. The group of women congregates next to Dumbledore as he kisses the back of Madame Maxine’s hand. The Hogwarts students and faculty applaud the new arrivals.

“And now, please greet our friends from the North, the proud sons of Durmstrang, and their High Master, Igor Karkakoff!” announces Dumbledore.

The beefy fur-wearing Durmstrang boys enter with staffs in their hands, slam said staffs, and chant loudly…or at least grunt aggressively. As they walk closer to the teacher’s table, the boys wave these staffs about. One of their students appears to perform impressive acrobatics. It’s hard to tell if their intentions are to impress everyone or intimidate them… either way, they are succeeding.

At the peak of its ultra-masculine showcase, Viktor Krum makes a solo entrance of his own, a mere walk, with the Durmstrang head, Igor Karkaroff, following closely behind. Several people in the room appear to instantly lose their minds upon laying their eyes on him. Krum has that kind of effect on people. Based on the way he carries himself, it’s easy to forget that he is only eighteen years old. Moira vividly recalls seeing him and his broken nose at the World Cup. At a quick glance, it looks as though his nose fully recovered. One of the boys blows fire out of their wands that form into a snake and swims across the hall. Moira can’t help but compare the fire snake to the one she saw at the Cup, but she decides to shake off the comparison.

After Dumbledore exchanges a hug with Professor Karkakoff, he summons the Hogwarts students to stand and sing the school song:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they’re bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we’ve forgot,_

_Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot._

All the students sing along, though the performance makes them appear childlike in comparison to the other schools. Moira prefers to pretend that the song never happened.

The Hogwarts students sit back down.

“Well.. that was slightly embarrassing,” complains Roger.

“I mean… The guys had fire… the girls had butterflies… and we had a song,” observes Moira, who tries her best to not bash her own school. “To each their own I suppose.”

“I think it was perfectly fine. We needn’t overdo it. We’re already hosting.” says Cho.

The Welcoming Feast begins, and the food is served… The Durmstrang boys are assigned to sit at the Slytherin table while the Beauxbatons girls are assigned to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Most of the Beauxbatons girls stick together and eventually open up to the Ravenclaw students. A long silver-haired Beauxbatons girl sits next to Cho and directly across Moira and Roger. The girl introduces herself with a strong French accent. “Hello! My name is Fleur! What are all of your names?”

Cho, Roger, and Moira take turns introducing themselves. Moira could swear that she saw Roger smirking a little too much at Fleur. It’s a smirk that Moira has seen many times… and it’s one that has gotten him into too many romantic entanglements. There is something about Fleur that feels familiar, but Moira is currently unable to pinpoint exactly what it is.

Moira acquaints herself with Fleur and partakes in the feast. As the food begins to disappear, Dumbledore stands. Moira holds her breath in excitement as the room is silenced. He looks around the room with the proudest smile.

“The moment has come. The Triwizard is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket.”

Moira squeals under her breath.

Dumbledore introduces Barty Crouch (the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation) and Ludo Bagman (Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports), men that Moira has seen mingling with her parents on social outings. Both men, particularly Bagman who is a former Quidditch Beater, receive applause.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the Champions’ efforts.”

A great wooden chest encrusted with jewels is carried into the Great Hall. People move their heads about to get a closer look at it. Dumbledore continues his speech.

“The instructions for the Tasks the Champions will face this year have been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three Tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the Champions in many different ways… their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction, and of course, their ability to cope with danger. As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform in each of the Tournament Tasks and the Champion with the highest total after Task Three will win the Triwizard Cup. The Champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: The Goblet of Fire.”

“He’s gonna pull it out!” fangirls Moira. Fleur is focused on Dumbledore, while Roger and Cho continue to hype Moira up.

Dumbledore whips out his wand and taps three times on the casket, which slowly opens. He reaches inside and pulls out a large antique cup with dancing blue-white flames. It is none other than the Goblet of Fire. Students “Ooh” and “Aww” at the sacred sight. Moira stares intently as Dumbledore closes the casket and places the Goblet on top of it.

Moira reminds herself to breathe as she squirms about in excitement. It could be her esteem being instantly lifted, or the sight of the Goblet of Fire that compels her… but any self-doubt that she previously had has now completely disappeared.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as Champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the Goblet. Aspiring Champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.”

Roger snickers. “As though that’s going to stop anyone.” Fleur softly chuckles at his comment and Roger is even more bedazzled. Cho is weirded out by Roger’s demeanor.

“Finally I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a Champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a Champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the Goblet… Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.” concludes Dumbledore.

As the students begin to exit, Moira runs over to Cedric. She pulls him aside and lets the other students leave without difficulty. “Do you still want to do this? Do you still want to submit your name?” asks Moira.

“Of course. Do you?” asks Cedric.

“Absolutely. Let’s do it tonight!” passionately answers Moira as she beams with surety.

“You have that look in your eyes again.”

She blushes. Cedric looks around and sees that there’s a ton of students lingering about.

“Let’s meet back here in two hours.” proposes Cedric.

Two hours later, Cedric and Moira quietly sneak back into the Great Hall. The Hall, thank Merlin, is completely quiet and empty. He checks his pockets and ensures that he still has his parchment. “Got yours?” She pulls her parchment out of her pocket and nods.

“Let’s enter at the same time,” suggests Moira.

“That’s a good idea.” agrees Cedric.

“Wait! Before we go… I need you to promise me one thing.” she pleads.

“Anything.”

She offers him her right pinky finger. “No matter what tomorrow brings, I want you to know that I’ll be fine with any and all of the outcomes.”

“I love the wording.”

He nods saying “I’ll be fine with any and all outcomes as well. And if one of us is picked, there will be no hard feelings at all.”

“No hard feelings at all.”

They make a pinky promise. Walking in sync, the couple crosses the age line and stand next to each other as they look into the fire. Both are drawn to the blue flames and stare into it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” muses Moira.

“It’s beyond that… it’s bewitching…” He pauses. “Get it? Bewitching?”

They laugh out loud before they shake it off and return back to the task at hand. They clinch onto their parchments and bring their hands before the Goblet of Fire.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.” she confidently answers.

On the count of three, Moira and Cedric drop their parchments into the Goblet of Fire at the same exact time. The parchments move in sync and mingle with the fire like perfect choreography. As the parchments disappear, Moira and Cedric feel as though a large burden has been lifted from their torsos as they let out a sigh of relief.

They high-five and interlock hands as they watch the paper burn and see their names completely disintegrate into the fire. Once both their names disappear at the same exact time, they continue to hold hands and leave the Great Hall. What was initially insecurity and anxiety for the duo have now transformed into a confident knowing for each of them.

At breakfast, Moira, Cedric, Salvia, and Roger study the handful of students who muster the courage to submit their names… or at least attempt to. In the span of an hour, they witness two underage students, a Ravenclaw girl and a Hufflepuff boy, get hurled from the Goblet of Fire. When they’re thrown across the age line, they age rapidly and rush to the hospital wing. “Look at that, Cedric, it’s like looking into a mirror!” points out Moira as the group lightly chuckles at the scene.

As the laughter dies down, Salvia turns her attention to the actual eligible Hufflepuff boy and Ravenclaw girl of The Ravenpuff Gang. “Tell me that you’re both going to submit your names. If you don’t I’m submitting them for you.” begs the Scottish witch.

“We already did,” answers Cedric.

“What?! When?!” interrogates Roger.

“Last night,” adds Moira.

Roger and Salvia shriek in excitement.

“I don’t think you’re going to have much competition. The only other people who’ve submitted their names are Johnson from Gryffindor and Warrington from Slytherin.” confidently states Salvia.

“And let’s face it, Johnson and Warrington have absolutely nothing on Diggory and Crane,” adds Roger in his best impression of a sports commentator.

The commentary fuels Moira’s competitive high as she now calculates that she has an extremely high chance of being selected.

They turn their attention as they watch the Weasley twins chug some age potion. They appear to succeed….until they both get yeeted from the furious Goblet of Fire. The entire hall, including The Ravenpuff Gang, lightheartedly laugh at the aged and bearded twins as they leave for the hospital wing.

The Beauxbatons girls quickly drop their names in the Goblet and leave. The Durmstrang boys do the same. No Hogwarts student, of course, cares for their submissions. After the Weasleys’ blunder, no other Hogwarts student enter their name.

That evening, the Great Hall is transformed into a grand, spooky, but slightly quirky arena of grandeur. Live bats fly about the ceiling while pumpkins flooded every corner. There were more candles than usual… and the Halloween feast, while deliciously mind-blowing, took forever to end.

Moira quickly eats and fidgets about as she continuously stares at the Goblet, which seems to still be in deliberation. Cedric, who is at the Hufflepuff table, smiles and nods amongst the excitement as he too looks at the Goblet.

As the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table is right next to each other, the couple has their backs facing one another. Cedric turns around and taps on Moira’s shoulder. For a brief moment, they see the first-year versions of each other. They squeeze each other’s hands as they share a look that says “This is it!”

“I have a good feeling about this!” declares Moira.

“Me too.” agrees Cedric.

When they blink, they see each other revert back to their seventeen-year-old selves.

“Let’s talk after the ceremony?” asks Moira. He nods.

They turn and bring their attention back to their respective Houses. Moira looks over at the teachers’ table and sees that Crouch and Bagman are back for the second night in a row. Trelawney, who rarely comes to the Hall after the annual Sorting Ceremony, is glistening with excitement. Perhaps she knows something that no one else does.

Dumbledore rises from his chair and everyone is instantly hushed. “The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute.”

Moira gasps. She and Cedric share anticipatory expressions. The energy in the Hall vibrates with suspense. Dumbledore waves his wand about and it blows out of the candlelights. The only source of light within the room is the Goblet of Fire.

“Now, when the Champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go into the next chamber… where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

The flames of the Goblet shift from blue to a bright red. Within an instant, sparks begin to fly from the Goblet, which awes the entire room. Flame splashes from it and a slip of parchment flies out. Dumbledore grabs the slip and reads “The Durmstrang Champion is… Viktor Krum!”

As the Durmstrang boys cheer on, Viktor rises from the Slytherin table and struts down the hall. He shakes Dumbledore’s hand and silently exits. Moira isn’t at all surprised.

Red sparks engulf the Goblet again, and Dumbledore grabs the next parchment.

“The Beauxbatons Champion is… Fleur Delacour!”

Fleur giddily gets up and makes her exit as several of her classmates happily and tearfully cry on the other end of the Ravenclaw table.

The Goblet of Fire turns red for a final time. The red sparks fly particularly high in the air. As the slip flies out again, Dumbledore grabs the third piece of parchment. As this happens, Cedric and Moira exchange a nervous expression. Cedric completely freezes and intentionally looks away from Dumbledore. Moira closes her eyes and feels her heart pound with anticipation.

“The Hogwarts Champion is…” announces Dumbledore as he opens up the slip of parchment.

“Cedric Diggory!”

The Hufflepuffs go wild! Cedric breaks into a surprised smile as his Housemates help him stand up. Naturally, he looks to Moira, who shoots him a genuine smile. She gets up and quickly hugs him before sitting back down. Still taking in the news, Cedric looks around him and sees that everyone from all the tables is applauding him. Realizing that he is not dreaming, he begins to make his stride down the Hall in the most confident manner he can. Dumbledore shakes his hand, pats him on the back, congratulates him, and points him in the right direction. Following the instructions, Cedric exits the Hall.

A great sense of defeat floods Moira’s heart as she watches this unfold. She does her best to fight off automatic frowns and suppress her tears. Moira takes a deep breath and remembers her promise: No hard feelings. She is genuinely happy for him, but being rejected by an ancient antique does sting. In fact, it really sucks.

Roger and Cho, in between applauding Cedric, turn their attention to their friend.

“Are you okay, Moira?” asks Cho.

“Of course I am! I’m happy for him. He deserves to compete!” answers Moira. Roger platonically pats her on the back as Cho rubs her upper arm.

“It’s alright mate,” assures Roger.

“Thanks,” says Moira.

After a few breaths, she finds herself content with the result and breaks into a happier smile. She even begins to brainstorm the many ways in which they could celebrate. Her favorite and most practical idea by far would be to simply buy him a round of Butterbeers… but then that’s probably what everyone else would do. She then thinks about making it a point to carefully listen to what he says about the first Task and then proceeding to write a whole guide on the subject to make his life slightly easier… perhaps there’s a spell to make the process faster for her.

Moira abandons her brainstorming and joins Hogwarts’ roaring fanfare. Students begin to mingle amongst each other. Everyone seems to have forgotten that their Houses were in the midst of a betting war just hours ago. In Moira’s mind, the scene unfolding eerily reminds her of the festivities that took place after the World Cup.

Amongst the celebratory screams, Salvia and Moira share a “Can you believe it?!” look. Students jump about, hug each other, and scream in unison. This lasts for about five minutes.

After letting the students have their moment, an elated Dumbledore decides to speak again. “Excellent!”

The celebration simmers down and everyone, including Moira, returns back to their seats. “Well, we now have our three Champions…”

All of the students begin to notice that the fire in the Goblet has turned red again and begin to whisper amongst themselves.

“I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your Champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your Champion on -”

As the volumes of the whispers increase, Dumbledore pauses his speech. He notices that everyone is staring at the Goblet again. When he turns around, red sparks fly out of the Goblet. This particular light show is the most aggressive and excessive, which takes the room aback. Whatever it is, Moira thinks, it must be significant.

A slip parchment flutters in the air, and Dumbledore instantly snatches it. He opens up the slip and reads it silently. He raises an eyebrow and looks around the Great Hall.

Everyone is giving each other strange looks as they try to dissect Dumbledore’s body language. The student body’s dissection soon becomes a stare. Dumbledore looks at the parchment again. The professors and guests exchange nervous looks. He clears his throat and finally reads it out loud.

“Moira Crane.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira Crane is Mixed (Black and White). The text is based on the novel version of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

“Moira Crane.” 

The room is dead silent. Moira could swear that she misheard that. She blinks rapidly and tries to figure out if she is dreaming. She could swear that her heart either just dropped or exploded…. Or both. 

“Moira Crane?” calls out Dumbledore. 

She looks to Roger, Cho, and the rest of the Ravenclaw-Beauxtons table, who are staring blankly at her. Moira turns around and looks at the Hufflepuffs, who are also staring at her with an ambivalent expression on each of their faces. Salvia, in particular, looks bewildered. 

“Moira Crane?” 

“You better get up there before he gets really cross.” whisper-warns Roger. 

Moira stands and straightens herself. She looks around the room and finds that the Gryffindor and Slytherin-Durumstrang students are gawking at her. Forcing herself to look dead ahead, Moira begins her ascension down the Great Hall. It only takes a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity in her mind. The semi-lit room aids her in ignoring the students, though she can feel the spirit of bamboozlement in the air tonight. She finally stands before Dumbledore and prepares to feel his wrath. He quietly examines her and notes her paled face, which tries its best to put on a brave face. He gently pats her on the back. 

“Through the door, Moira,” instructs Dumbledore in an extremely collected tone. She takes a gulp, nods, and slowly begins her exit. 

Moira takes a quick glance at the equally astounded professors and guests. Karkaroff and Maxime look outraged. The only warm face amongst the table is Professor Trelawney, who offers her a comforting smile. Moira feigns one in return. 

She slowly opens the door and quietly enters the Great Hall Chamber, a small room filled with antiques and various paintings of famed witches and wizards. On the other side of the room are the Champions… the other Champions. 

Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory silently surround the lit fireplace and take in the warm fire. They all turn around when Moira approaches the fireplace. Cedric, who has known Moira since she was eleven, immediately knows that something is off. “Moira… What’s wrong?” asks Cedric. 

Moira takes a gulp. “It appears that…” She pauses and lets out an awkward laugh before addressing the group. “After Cedric left, the Goblet went red, and… it appears… that…I…” She pauses again as her predicament finally dawns on her. She takes a breath and finishes her sentence. “…That I am also the Hogwarts Champion.” 

They go silent for a moment. Fleur is perplexed. Cedric, who is taken aback, breaks into an ambiguous smile. Viktor furrows his eyebrows at Moira. 

“Ah, we haven’t met yet, have we? I’m Moira Crane. Great fan of your work, by the way.” she says as she extends her hand to Viktor. He reluctantly shakes it as he sizes her up. 

“I am very confused.” bluntly states Fleur. “There are supposed to be three people, not four!” 

Moira shrugs and sighs. “I am just as confused as you are. I really am.” They all hear the door open as she continues to speak. “I don’t know how it happened, but it did… so here I am.” 

“And here you are!” laughs Bagman as he joins the group around the fireplace. “This is just amazing! Extraordinary! Exciting! Four worthy Champions competing for eternal glory! I sense that this is going to be amazing to witness! Tales of this Tournament will be told for ages!” 

Fleur is now agape at the confirmation, Viktor’s face has now totally darkened, Cedric lets out a soft laugh, and Moira breaks into an awkward closed smile. 

The door opens and closes again, this time it sounds more like an urgent slam. The commotion behind them indicates that a large group of people is entering the room. Bagman and the Champions turn and find that Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxine, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape are flooding the room. They all hear the gossipy commotion of the students before the door is slammed shut by McGonagall. The rather large group surrounds the fireplace. 

Both Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff grimace at Moira as she stands alongside her fellow Champions. 

“What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?!” furiously asks an intimidatingly tall Madame Maxime, who speaks with a thick French accent. 

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore. Two Hogwarts Champions?! I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?” asks Karkaroff. 

“Mais c’est impossible! Hogwarts ne peut pas avoir deux Champions! Ce n’est pas juste! (But it’s impossible! Hogwarts cannot have two Champions! It’s not fair!)” complains Maxime, who is so upset that she can’t be bothered to translate her outrage. No one but Fleur seems to completely understand what she just said, but Moira is guessing that it is an angry protest about the two Hogwarts Champions. The Hogwarts Headmaster turns to the center of the conflict. 

“Moira, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” calmly asks Dumbledore. 

“Yes,” answers Moira.

“Did you do anything to the Goblet? Or to your parchment?” he asks as he maintains his calm tone. 

“No, and I wouldn’t even know how to! It never even occurred to me until now!” Moira defensively explains with a controlled passion and temper. 

“Of course she would say these things! She is obviously lying!” complains Madame Maxime. 

“She’s not, Madame! Moira is telling the truth!” insists Cedric, who has been quietly and intently listening to the conversation. 

Dumbledore and the rest of the room now turn their attention to the other Hogwarts Champion, who takes it as his cue to continue speaking. “I was with Moira when she put her name in the Goblet of Fire and she was with me when I did the same. We did it two hours after dinner last night. ” 

“Who submitted their name first?” Dumbledore asks with a still-calm tone. 

“We submitted our names at the same time, sir.” transparently explains Cedric. “We crossed the age line and threw our parchments in together. We left the Hall together and then went straight to bed. I walked her back to Ravenclaw Tower and then I went back to Hufflepuff Basement.” 

Moira nods along as he tells everyone the truth. She is glad to know that there is at least one person on her side amongst all of this. 

“Ah! So now he is lying too!” perceives Madame Maxime with a strong accusatory tone. “Either he is covering for her or they have both cheated!” 

“How dare you accuse them of such criminal actions!” explodes Professor Flitwick, who is beyond furious with Maxime’s accusation. “To insinuate that these two students have conspired to hijack the Triwizard Tournament is a direct insult to them, to Hogwarts, and to myself as Head of Ravenclaw!”

Professor McGonagall’s face is as red as a tomato as she scolds the Beauxbatons Head. “Mr. Diggory and Miss Crane are amongst the most trustworthy students I have ever encountered during my time at Hogwarts! If Dumbledore believes them, then that should be good enough for everyone because that is good enough for me!” 

It warms Moira’s heart to see her professors, who have known her and Cedric since they were first-years, passionately come to their defense… though Snape is unusually quiet in the midst of all of this conflict.

The adults turn to Crouch and Bagman like a group of siblings would turn to a parent during a petty argument. Bagman directs his eye contact to Crouch, who has been stoically staring into the fire throughout the bickering. Crouch turns and is unintimated with the massive attention everyone is giving him. “We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament!” he explains matter-of-factly. 

“Which I am and have always been willing to do,” asserts Moira. “Otherwise, I would have never submitted my name into The Goblet of Fire.” 

Upon hearing this, Karkaroff fumes like a heating tea kettle on a kitchen stove.“I insist upon submitting the names of the rest of my students! You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two Champions. It’s only fair, Dumbledore!” 

Madame Maxime adds an aggressive “Hmmm!” in the spirit of solidarity. 

“But Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that!” says Bagman. “The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out. It won’t reignite until the start of the next Tournament!-” 

“-in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!” snaps Karkaroff. “After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!” 

“Empty threat, Karkaroff.” Everyone turns and finds the source of the remark. It’s Moody, who is limping to the fireplace with a clunk accompanying his steps. “Your Champion’s got to compete. All of them have got to complete. Binding magical contracts, remember?” 

Moody leans in close to Moira and carefully studies her face. His mechanical blue eye stares at her more than his natural dark eye does. He says nothing and neither does she, though she wonders if he is capable of reading her mind. After a few seconds, Moody steps back and confidently declares “You’re not a dangerous girl! She’s harmless… completely delicate-looking if you ask me.” 

Moira is slightly offended. He barely knows her! Does she not seem dangerous? Tough? Incapable of inflicting damage by her own might? She is very tempted to voice her opinion but decides that this would only work against her at this particular moment in time. Cedric quietly restrains his facial expression, but his raised eyebrow gives away his displeasure with the Auror’s analysis. 

“What are you trying to say, Moody?” asks Karkaroff. 

“What exactly does a girl like her have to get out of cheating her way into the Triwizard Tournament? Money? Attention? Fame? I highly doubt that those are things that would motivate Miss Crane into cheating. And it seems as though she signed herself up… so there’s not much to say there.” lectures Moody in what Moira interprets as his Auror voice. 

“So what do you think happened?” asks a doubtful Karkaroff. 

Moody muses as he looks at Cedric and Moira. “Some witches and wizards are naturally resistant to spells… In my experience, some witches and wizards can be naturally…enchanting.” He notes the confused faces and thinks. “The cup seems to have deemed them equally worthy. Perhaps the Goblet could not pick between them, so it chose both Diggory and Crane. They might not have intentionally hoodwinked the Goblet. Perhaps the Goblet has a heart of its own that judges with the mind.” 

“How unusually optimistic of you,” observes a suspicious-looking Karkaroff.

“Not to mention romantic,” adds Snape. No one, including the professors, is surprised that Snape’s only contribution to the ongoing debate is a snide remark. Moira can’t tell which definition Snape is using, but she finds that his choice of vocabulary is still appropriate in either scenario. 

“But it is only a deduction, which means it is only a guess. How this situation has truly risen, we do not know, but we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Moira have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore they will do.” concludes Dumbledore as he reads the room. 

Moira and Cedric let out a breath of relief. Viktor and Fleur are still surprised. Karkaroff and Maxime are livid. The Hogwarts professors remain agreeably silent. Bagman is still geeking out. 

“Well… shall we crack on then?” asks Dumbledore. 

No one responds. 

“Er… Barty? Want to do the honors?” Dumbledore asks Crouch, who comes out of his zoning out, and gives his attention to the teenagers in the room. 

“The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is,” Crouch explains to Moira, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor. “Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… a very important quality. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.” 

The Champions nod. Crouch continues speaking. 

“The Champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The Champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second Task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the Tournament, the Champions are exempted from end-of-year tests. I think that’s all, is it, Albus?” 

The Champions smile at Crouch, but only because they don’t have to take the exams. 

“I think so,” says Dumbledore. Madame Maxime places her arms around Fleur’s shoulders and leads her swiftly out of the room as they intensely whisper in French. Karkaroff accompanies Krum out of the room and exits in silence. 

Dumbledore looks at Moira and Cedric with a smile and places his hands on their shoulders. “I am sorry that you both had to endure that. I suggest you both go to bed. I am sure that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are waiting to celebrate with you. Congratulations to you both.” 

The Hogwarts co-Champions nod at their professors and leave the room together. 

The Great Hall is empty and barely lit with few candles. The bats still fly about and the pumpkins merely stare at Moira and Cedric as they walk through the large room. Neither of them knows what to say, as they certainly did not prepare themselves for this particular outcome. 

“Thanks for defending me, by the way,” says Moira. “I know that wasn’t easy for you to speak up with everyone staring at you.”

“I wasn’t going to let them slaughter you like that…Especially when I know the truth,” admits Cedric. 

“I would have done the same for you.” 

“I know.” 

They take a few steps before they speak again. Cedric breaks the temporary silence, saying “I have to admit that I am surprised that the Goblet picked out two Champions for our school… But I’m glad it picked you and not Angelina or Cassius. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they could do a great job, but there’s no other Hogwarts student I’d rather compete with than you. I suppose I’m selfish like that.”

“I’m honored to have been selected alongside you of all people,” says a very touched Moira. “It feels like Quidditch season, doesn’t it? Cheering each other on but also competing against each other? But more dangerous, of course!” 

He laughs at her observation. “Except… we can actually help each other in between Tasks… but only if you feel that it’s a good idea.” 

“That would be fantastic!” exclaims an excited Moira. “We might be competing against one another but… we’re still representing the same school. It’s us against them, right?” she pauses and stops walking, forcing Cedric to do the same. They sit down at one of the tables. She reflects on her last words and cringes. “That was a bit too harsh wasn’t it?” 

“Honestly, Moira? I don’t think it is,” answers Cedric. 

“But it’s the two of us against one person each… I don’t know, you’re the top advocate for ‘fair play’ ‘round here, what do you think?” rambles Moira. 

Cedric thinks about her reasoning. “It’s a shame that Durmstrang and Beauxbattons only have one student, but I have a feeling that if the situation was somehow reversed, they would share the same sentiment… so I think that you have an extremely understandable line of reasoning given the circumstances. Let’s look at it this way: If one of us wins, we both win… And yes I know that increases our school’s chances of winning over the other two but… this is already so complicated, to begin with. ” 

She nods. “I agree. Except I’m afraid that’s not how Hufflepuff is going to interpret this… or Ravenclaw for that matter.” 

He shrugs. “Guess not, but as you said, we’re representing Hogwarts… not Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw… but Hogwarts. Together. I think Moody’s theory was right.” 

“Which one?” asks Moira. “The one about me being delicate or the one about us being equally worthy? Because I only agree with the latter. ” 

“I meant the latter,” answers Cedric. 

“It really stung when he called me that,” complains Moira. Cedric frowns as he thinks back to that moment. 

“Well… you and I know both that’s not true. You can prove him wrong,” assures Cedric. 

“I will,” states Moira. “We should probably get back to our dorms. They’re probably waiting for us.” 

They get up and make their way to the Entrance Hall. 

“I don’t think we’re going to get any sleep tonight.” guesses Cedric. 

“Probably not… though I don’t know how my House is going to react. They were quiet earlier,” she says with a worried tone. 

“I’m sure they’re extremely happy for you. It’s not every day that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw get to bask in the light,” says Cedric, who is quite the optimist this evening. She shrugs and nods as they exit the Great Hall. 

“You should get back to Hufflepuff to elongate the festivities. I don’t want to keep them waiting.” insists Moira.

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

“Yeah… I’ll be fine,” she replies. 

The two Champions share a deep, comforting kiss. They tightly embrace for a few seconds. Moira begins to melt into his arms as her distress throughout the evening physically manifests. 

“It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be alright. Let’s meet up in the morning?” proposes Cedric. 

“Let’s.” agrees Moira. 

They let go and slowly begin to walk away. Both have difficulty turning their backs onto one another until Cedric heads for a door to the right and waves her goodbye as he heads downstairs to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Moira turns around and begins to walk to the viaduct. She then walks to the Transfiguration Courtyard and crosses. She isn’t sure what to make of the past few evenings. She doesn’t quite know where to start. How is Salvia, her Hufflepuff friend, going to react to this? How will the rest of Hufflepuff react to her tomorrow? Aren’t they supposed to be the inherently nicer Hogwarts students? 

She supposes that she will also have to write to her family to inform them of her entry into the Triwizard Tournament… or is the school going to do that for her? Even if Hogwarts sends her family an owl, Moira figures that it would be decent of her to personally confirm the news. 

Moira knows for a fact that Bryn and Angelica would be stoked that she entered, but her parents? She isn’t too sure. On the one hand, she could see where both of her parents would be happy for her, but she sees the potential freak out… which she feels would be justifiable given the history of the tournament… The only way for her to know their true reaction is to send an owl, which she plans on doing sometime tomorrow. 

Moira now takes the staircase and climbs all the way to the fifth floor and finally makes it to Ravenclaw Tower, but like every other member of the House, she has to answer a riddle before getting in. No one but the Ravenclaws knows that the common room “passwords” are actually answers to riddles asked by a bronze, eagle-shaped door knocker.

“Feed me and I live. Give me a drink and I die. What am I?” asks the Knocker, who speaks with a soft, musical voice. Its voice is soothing but its questions can be irritating if one does not know the answer. 

Moira thinks for a second and then frowns. “A fire,” she answers, feeling that the riddle is ill-timed. The door opens, and she is ambushed by a mob of Ravenclaw students of various years who are screaming, yelling, and throwing blue and bronze confetti at her. 

As she makes her way through the common room, the students begin to sound somewhat coherent. 

“MOIRA! MOIRA! MOIRA! MOIRA!” 

“-STOP!” yells a very overwhelmed Moira. The students are suddenly quiet. She looks around and examines each and every one of their cheerful faces. 

“You’re not cross with me?” she asks her Housemates. 

“Honestly? Not really,” answers Roger, who has emerged from the crowd of students. “It’s not like you’re underage… and let’s face it, you’re probably the only person with enough wits and bravado to win this Tournament.” 

A few students holler to agree with Roger. 

“But there’s two of us.” points out Moira. 

Cho pops up. “Don’t get us wrong, we’re happy for Cedric, but you too are a real Hogwarts Champion! A valid contender! It’s not often that a Hufflepuff receives this kind of honor, but when does a Ravenclaw ever receive something like this? It’s a relief that Gryffindor and Slytherin aren’t involved in something for once!” 

A few students holler again to support Cho’s point. 

Roger raises a cup in his hands, which is filled with Merlin knows what. Older students raise a similar cup as well. “So with that in mind….” begins Roger. “Let us make a toast to Moira Crane of Ravenclaw… THE HOGWARTS CO-CHAMPION OF THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!!!” 

The entire House breaks into a glorious riot at the end of Roger’s sentence. He gives Moira a cup of the drink and smells that there’s wine inside. 

“Roger… did you turn vinegar into wine?” asks Moira as she competes with the noise. 

“Of course we did!” happily responds Roger. 

“Did you steal the vinegar?” 

He smirks at his friend. “What do you think, Moira?” 

Moira shakes her head and drinks after a long night of anxiety, fear, accusations, comfort, and finally… joy. 

She opts to have a few more cups as she loosens up and finally basks in her new glory for the night. As the concoction hits her and the students break into random slurred songs, the positive aspect of the night finally registers into her brain: Moira Crane has been chosen. The realization sends her into an upward spiral through the late night. It’s only when she finds herself within the middle of the bacchanalian celebration that she realizes that she may have just received the antidote she has been looking for… but she knows that it is only the beginning of the already unusual dosage.


	6. Chapter 6

The intrusive daylight awakens Moira, who is lying amongst her dormmates on the ground. Still in uniform with plenty of confetti in her extremely messy hair, she tries to get up, but she is immediately plagued by a mind splitting headache. She lies back down and takes in the scene: many of the sixth year girls were still sleeping. Moira’s bed sheets have been yanked down to the ground, which tells her that she might have tried to physically climb into bed but somehow failed.

After staring at the ceiling for five minutes, Moira forces herself to get off the ground. She takes a quick shower, washes the confetti out of her hair, and gently dries her hair. As students are allowed to wear casual clothing on the weekends, Moira quickly puts on a light turtleneck shirt with a pair of mom jeans. She throws an oversized blue flannel over her outfit and leaves it unbuttoned. She slips onto a comfortable pair of sneakers and slowly descends down to the Great Hall. Once there, she finds Cedric painfully resting his head on the table.

“Good morning, love,” she says with a shattered voice that results from excessive screaming and singing.

“Morning, love.’ he says in a similarly broken voice.

She kisses him on his forehead and runs her fingers through his hair before sitting across him.

“You alright?” she asks as they soothingly play with each other’s hands.

Cedric, donning a flattering windbreaker, a sweatshirt with baggy jeans and sneakers, raises his head and gives her a weak smile. “No…” he answers. “You?”

“Absolutely not. Did Hufflepuff steal some vinegar?” asks Moira.

He nods. “I take it Ravenclaw did the same?”

Her headache viciously bashes her, forcing Moira to merely nod.

“Told you so,” smirks Cedric.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” she asks.

“After a few hours, I managed to get into bed, but this headache is awful,” he replies. “You?”

Moira pauses to think back on the night but she barely remembers anything. “I woke on my dorm floor with confetti in my hair and my head killing me. The sunlight woke me up.”

Cedric pours pumpkin juice for both of them. “One of the seventh-years was telling me that juice helps with hangovers.” As he gives Moira her cup, he pays close attention to her flannel. “Is that my shirt?” he asks with a curious tone.

“Yep,” she says as she drinks from her cup.

“It looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

“When did I-”

“Two years ago when we were at Hogsmeade. I think it was on Valentine’s Day…” casually remarks Moira as she reaches for toast. She smirks at the bread. “I remember Bryn eating a bunch of this the morning after we won the Cup… the Quidditch Cup, I mean.”

“I remember that,” says Cedric.

Moira remembers the 1991/1992 Quidditch season with fondness. It was her first season and Bryn’s last. Their combined effortless coordination, along with Roger’s, made the Ravenclaw Team extremely lethal.

“He was crying between drinks and kept hugging me the entire night…” recalls Moira. “It’s too bad we never won another Cup.”

“At least you won something,” notes Cedric, who is reminded that Hufflepuff hasn’t won the Quidditch Inter-House Cup in years.

“But you beat Harry Potter!” Moira says as she does an impression of Mr. Diggory, making them both cautiously chuckle as their heads beat on. They finish their toast and switch to porridge in the hopes that it is stronger than Bryn’s hangover plan.

“I almost forgot that we have to tell our families about this,” says Cedric. “I feel bad for almost forgetting.”

“I was going to send an Owl to my family… that is after I write the letters. Care to join me?” asks Moira.

“I’d love to. I’ll quickly fetch some quills and parchment from my room since I’m closer.” offers Cedric.

“Let’s deal with our hangovers first,” she suggests as they’re both still feeling unwell.

After numerous servings of porridge in tureens, the duo feels well enough to produce a letter for their families. Cedric grabs quills, ink bottles, and parchment from his room and they write at the table. Cedric, being an only child, intends to write only one letter. Moira intends to write three separate letters for her parents, her sister, and her brother.

She decides to address her parents first. She takes a moment to rehearse the words in her head before beginning to write.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_Hope everything is well at home and at the Prophet!_

_Sorry that it took so long to write. Classes have been rather time-consuming!_

_I have great news! Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament! I submitted my name into the Goblet of Fire, and I’ve been selected as the Hogwarts co-Champion! Cedric is the other Champion! I promise you that we did not plan for that outcome! No one can quite figure out how the Goblet produced four Champions but rules are rules, and I still get to compete! Our first task is on November 24th! We have no idea what’s going to happen but it should be exciting!_

_I promise you that I am making sound decisions as you read this… I can’t guarantee safety but I’ll do my best to remain unharmed. I’ll be well-prepared for whatever it is._

_Wish us luck! Will be writing back soon!_

_Love,_

_Moira_

_P.S. Mum, is the dress and shoes you packed and enchanted somehow related to this?_

Moira carefully sets the first letter aside to let the ink dry. Meanwhile, Cedric finishes his letter and lets it dry. He watches Moira as she writes to her sister.

_Dear Angelica,_

_Sorry that it took so long to write. Classes have kept me quite busy!_

_Mum and Dad may or may not tell you before you read this, but I wanted to personally notify you anyway. Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament and I’ve been selected as the Hogwarts co-Champion! Cedric is the other Champion!_

_Each school is supposed to have one Champion, but the Goblet of Fire (it’s this fiery cup where we had to submit our name and it picks the most worthy person) selected us both! Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff spent last night celebrating so we’re all a bit tired this morning. Our first Task is on the 24th… and it’s a surprise! Ced and I are planning to work together between tasks, so we should be ready for whatever we encounter that day._

_Wish us luck! I’ll keep you updated as this goes along._

_Love,_

_Moira_

She twirls the quill in her hands and decides that she wants to be slightly more frank with her brother, who is impossible to flatter with sugar-coated speech.

_Dear Bryn,_

_Hope Unspeakable work is going well!_

_Sorry it took so long to write. Year Six… You know how it is._

_Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament. I submitted my name into the Goblet of Fire and well… last night I got chosen. So did Cedric. (No we did not plan this.) We’re the Hogwarts co-Champions! I’m not sure how it happened but it just did._

_The other school Heads think that Cedric and I (mostly I) cheated our way into it. I assure you that neither of us did and we wouldn’t even know how to begin with. McGonagall Flitwick defended our characters so that was nice. Viktor Krum is the Durmstrang Champion. I don’t think he likes me. Fleur Delacour is the Beauxbatons Champion. She likes me, but she’s a bit surprised that there are four of us instead of three._

_The first Task is on November 24th. They didn’t tell us anything except that it involves wands and courage… so that gives me a lot to work with. I know what you’re thinking but don’t panic. I know exactly what I’m doing… I think. I’m also exempt from taking exams because of the Tournament. HA!_

_Other than that, Ravenclaw stole vinegar and… You and I both know how this goes. I woke up with confetti in my hair this morning. Cedric and I ate some toast and porridge to ease the headaches but I have a feeling it’ll take a while to sober up._

_Will keep you updated. Wish us luck!_

_Love,_

_Moira_

P.S. Mad-Eye Moody is the new DADA professor. Let’s see if he sticks around this time.

Once done, she proof-reads all of her letters and seals them up. The couple heads off to the owlery and looks for their owls. They first find Cedric’s barn owl named Cadogan who immediately accepts Cedric’s letter. Cadogan looks around him and hoots. Asta, Moira’s snowy owl, lands next to Cadogan. This does not surprise their owners one bit as owls are extremely intelligent and all-knowing. Moira hands her letters to Asta and quickly instructs her. The owls fly away and are assumed to have a safe and successful journey.

It is at dinner that the couple begins to feel the effects of last night’s ceremony. As they enter the Great Hall, the student body senses the Champions’ presence and immediately begins whispering and gossiping. Hufflepuff is uncharacteristically flagrant as they show off Cedric, continuously cheering on as he joins Salvia at their table. Ravenclaw does not refrain from expressing their joy as they become equally rowdy as Moira sits with Roger at their table.

“No Cho tonight?” remarks Moira.

“She’s still feeling unwell after last night so she’s with Madame Pomfrey. Don’t worry, Pomfrey thinks it’s nasty food poisoning,” says Roger as the duo serves himself some roast beef.

“So… has anyone said anything? Ced and I spent the whole day avoiding everyone,” she asks.

“Ravenclaw is merry about you. Gryffindors are still surprised that it’s not all about them for the first time in ages. Slytherin is well…Slytherin.” he explains in between bites…

“And what about Hufflepuff? Have you spoken to Sal yet?”

“Of course I did! She thinks it’ll make it a lot more entertaining. We’re all getting breakfast tomorrow and we’re doing it for everyone to see. Sal’s dragging Ced and I’m dragging you. Of course, not all Hufflepuffs are sharing her sentiment, but you needn’t worry about that. You are to Hufflepuff what Cedric is to us.”

“Which is?”

“We appreciate the other person but we love you more. We respect the other person but we support you more. I can’t speak for every Hufflepuff but I’m only reporting what Salvia told me earlier.”

At breakfast the next morning, the Hogwarts co-Champions become hyper-aware of the student body as she maneuvers the Great Hall on the first school day since the Goblet selected her and Cedric. The air does not feel as icy as it did that night, but she is unable to shake off the feeling that she is now being constantly watched. Salvia confirms Roger’s remarks as she warmly embraces Moira for Hufflepuff to witness. No one can determine if this was a genuine or calculated move, but Moira appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

Before Moira could try to make out Salvia’s standing, the latter explains, “As a girl, I support Moira. As a Hufflepuff, I support Cedric. As a friend, I support you both. Now let’s eat because I’m hungry. Oh! And we’ve been meaning to ask, but what exactly happened after the ceremony was over?”

The co-Champions go on to explain the entire ordeal, which confuses the other half of the Ravenpuff Gang, but they nod through anyway. Their reactions?

“Karkaroff and Maxime sound bitter and jealous to me,” remarks Salvia.

“It’s just petty rubbish, that’s all. Just win,” adds Roger.

Luckily, everything is running smoothly in Moira’s skittish headspace. The day, Moira senses would prove to be rather interesting.

The first class of the week, unfortunately, is Potions. Snape has always had a penchant for torturing his students, but Moira is absolutely positive that he is taking it up a notch with the Ravenpuff Gang. If he isn’t picking on her and Roger (who sit together in that class), he’s going after Salvia and Cedric, who are actually putting in more effort than their Ravenclaw counterparts. It’s a miracle that he isn’t deducting points from them during the lesson.

Over lunch, the group recovers from Snape’s brutality by stuffing their faces. The group’s schedule is about to split into half: Moira and Cedric are off to Transfigurations while Roger and Salvia are off to History of Magic. The romantic couple never intended to have a similar schedule. In fact, when selecting their courses for their sixth-year, they agreed to plan their classes separately and reveal their plans once everything was set. Much to their surprise, Moira and Cedric discovered that they would be taking Transfigurations, Charms (alongside Roger and Salvia), Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology (with Salvia). Their electives differ, as Moira takes Divination and Muggle Studies (with Roger) while Cedric takes Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures (with Salvia).

An hour later, Moira and Cedric (who still sit next to one another all of these years in Transfigurations) are immersed in McGonagall’s lessons on Human Transfiguration when a blonde Hufflepuff first-year girl politely sneaks into the classroom. She happily waves at Cedric (whom he recognizes from his Prefect duties) as she approaches McGonagall’s desk.

“Professor McGonagall? I’ve been instructed to escort Cedric and Moira to a room on the second floor. They need all of the Champions for a few photographs.” politely explains the little Hufflepuff girl.

“Ah, yes. I was told. Miss Crane? Mr. Diggory? Please gather your things and follow Miss Grove upstairs. You’ll have to catch up with the lesson another time, but you needn’t worry about that now. Enjoy your time upstairs.” relaxingly instructs McGonagall.

The duo packs their bags and fellow Grove as she leads them upstairs. “I’m Heidi! Heidi Grove! ” Grove introduces herself to Moira.

“Moira. Moira Crane. Very nice to meet you, Heidi.”

“Yes, I know! Cedric talks about you all the time in the Common Room! He was telling us about your Transfiguration skills. Is it true that you once transfigured your owl into a baby?”

Moira nods. Heidi’s jaw drops at the confirmation.

“Did you know that Cedric once turned bubbles, the ones that you get from washing your hands, into butterflies?” asks Moira.

The girl turns to Cedric, who modestly nods. She then proceeds to recall every silly Prefect story involving Cedric since the year has started. It’s quite obvious that Heidi greatly admires, if not worships, him.

“Heidi, what are the photos for?” asks Cedric as they climb the Grand Staircase in the Entrance Hall.

“The _Daily Prophet_ , of course!” answers Heidi.

Moira smiles at the idea. For as long as she could remember, Moira always dreamed of being featured in the _Daily Prophet_ as perhaps an editor or contributor… She never thought that in a thousand years that she would be the subject of an article that would guarantee a headline. The prospect of being featured tomorrow daunts her, but it also thrills her.

A few minutes and two staircases later, Heidi helps the couple spot the door of their destination.

“Good luck to both of you! See you later, Cedric! Nice to meet you, Moira!” says Heidi

“Nice to meet you too Heidi!”

They wave at her as the little girl walks away.

“Wait, how do I look?” asks Moira, who halts Cedric before he knocks.

“Splendid as per usual. What about me?”

“I’d say the same.”

Before Cedric can knock on the door, Ludo Bagman opens the door and happily welcomes them inside. “Ah! The co-Champions! The Wand Weighing Ceremony will begin soon! We just have to check that your wands are fully functional as they’re the most important tools in the Tasks ahead. The expert’s upstairs with Dumbledore and the other judges should be arriving soon. And then there’s going to be a little photoshoot for the _Prophet_! Your parents, from what I’ve heard, are excited that you’re in the Tournament, Moira! And I’m sure your parents are too, Cedric!”

The room is a fairly small and unused classroom with most of the desks pushed away to the back of the room. There is a large space in the middle of the room. A few of the desks are lined up in front of the board and draped in velvet. They are accompanied by five chairs. There are four chairs on the other side of the middle space, which Moira guesses are for herself and her fellow Champions.

Bagman’s booming voice attracts the attention of the photographer, who glances at the Hogwarts Champions, as well as the other two Champions. Viktor nods his head in acknowledgment. The Hogwarts co-Champions nod in return. Fleur amicably approaches them.

“Cedric! Moira! Good to see you both!” exclaims Fleur.

“Good to see you too, Fleur!” says Cedric.

“Moira… I would like to apologize for my attitude when you joined us after the ceremony,” says Fleur.

“Apology accepted.” Moira quickly responds.

“I think that it’s very nice to have another girl competing. Makes everything feel more… balanced. Girls deserve honor too, no?” continues Fleur, who says this with the universal feminist simper.

Moira returns the expression. “I understand exactly what you mean.”

Understanding what’s going on, Cedric respectfully watches the girls silently bond. Fleur appears to suddenly remember something that snaps her out of the trance that is girl power.

“Ah! Also! Roger told me that you two are together! Is that true?” Fleur curiously asks at a volume that echoes throughout the room. Everyone appears to turn and look in their direction. Moira could swear that Bagman is silently swooning at the revelation. A curly blonde witch in a magenta robe with jeweled spectacles twirls around and stares at the couple. A maniacal smile breaks out on her face. This is Rita Skeeter, the woman of her father’s nightmares, a major contributing factor to Moira’s less-than-ideal end of summer, and the same woman who wrote the inflammatory account about the Quidditch World Cup.

Cedric immediately looks to Moira, who is clenching both her teeth and her fists. He gently strokes her forearm. “Breathe.” urges Cedric at an extremely low volume. Moira takes a simmering breath.

“Bagman? I was wondering if I could quickly interview the… co-Champions. They both seem…extremely fascinating and I’m sure the Prophet would love to hear from them.” Rita asks Bagman as she inspects the couple from head to toe.

“Of course!” agrees Bagman. “Moira? Cedric? Up for a little chat with Ms. Skeeter?”

The couple looks at each other. Realizing that there is no diplomatic route out of this, Moira painfully nods. Rita grabs the two and escorts them to a claustrophobic cupboard. They do their best to sit on the most stable crates.

“I hope you two don’t mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It’ll free me to talk to you both normally.”

They shake their heads. Moira pulls out a roll of parchment and a long acid-green quill. She sucks on the tip of the quill for a moment before placing it upright on the parchment. The quill stands on its tip.

Rita pretentiously clears her throat. “Testing… my name is Rita Skeeter, _Daily Prophet_ reporter. I’m here talking with one of the Hogwarts co-Champions Moira Crane… daughter of Wilma Fay, a popular socialite, and Ellwood Crane, whose family has owned the _Daily Prophet_ since… I forget. Surely you must know, Moira?”

“1743,” answers Moira.

“1743… Two hundred and fifty-one years of influence and wealth and now you and your siblings get to enjoy it thanks to one Jules Crane.”

Aware that this is clearly a provocation, Moira doesn’t respond and painstakingly smiles. Rita now eyes Cedric.

“I’m also talking with the other Champion, Cedric Diggory…” Rita lets his surname simmer around her tongue. She looks at him intently. “As in the Minister of Magic Eldritch Diggory? Are you related to him?”

Cedric, who encounters this question once in a while, politely nods. “He’s an ancestor.”

“He died of dragon pox, did he not?” pushes Rita.

“He did.”

Rita looks at the quill and parchment and appears to be pleased with what she sees. “You two must be trying to make a name for yourselves. Why else would anyone such as you both enter a contest so dangerous? Certainly not for the money…”

Rita looks over the parchment and seems pleased with the quill’s work. She does not rip off the parchment and lets it keep writing. “Lovely. So I want to start off our conversation by asking the question that all the readers will be asking: did you two plan to compete together?”

The pair look at each other to determine who should take that question. They non-verbally make an instant decision.

“It was a surprise to the both of us, but we’re both happy to represent Hogwarts together,” answers Moira with a calculated smile.

“Together. Interesting. So is what Mademoiselle Delacour said true? You two are… paramours?” Rita asks with a provocative tone.

Moira and Cedric awkwardly look at each other to come up with an appropriate consensus. Rita watches the couple as her quill continues to write.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You both needn’t worry. Young love is nothing to be ashamed of. It was quite obvious when you both walked into the room. To me, you both carry yourselves as though you’re a happily married couple… Are you married?”

“We’re seventeen years old and we’re still in school,” answers Moira.

“You could have eloped, but I suppose that it’s no one’s business but your own… ” argues Rita.

The quill continues to write. “So… Cedric. How does it feel to be competing against your beloved?”

“I’m really excited to represent my school alongside Moira.” happily responds Cedric who is carefully selecting his words.

Rita raises an eyebrow at his response. “You’re not at all intimidated at the prospect that she could outperform you in the Tournament?”

Sensing that the question is a taunt, Cedric maintains his healthy and confident demeanor as he answers her question. “If she does, I’ll be supporting her from the sidelines.”

“And what about you, Moira? Do you fear that your boyfriend might outdo you? I personally shudder at the thought of letting some boy, let alone my lover, beat me at anything. And I imagine that a lot of girls at Hogwarts are looking up to you.”

“I believe I’ll do my best and I believe Cedric will do his best. We’re not representing ourselves. We’re representing our school. Together. We’re practically a team.” diplomatically answers Moira.

“And yet I see that you, Cedric, are in Hufflepuff and you, Moira, are in Ravenclaw… the two overshadowed Houses. Hufflepuff must have felt flustered to see someone else potentially steal their thunder. And I imagine Ravenclaw must have felt the same way.”

“Any victory between us is a Hogwarts victory.” calmly insists Cedric.

Moira tries to look at the paper and quill, but Rita has positioned her materials in a way where it is difficult to read the transcript. Rita schemes in her head before turning her attention to Moira once again.

“Moira, I must say that you have impeccable taste in men given that Cedric is a breathtakingly handsome man. Do you find that at times you have to… claim your territory?”

“We respect each other at Hogwarts,” answers Moira.

“How about you, Cedric? Ever had to ensure that no other boy snatches your mesmerizingly beautiful and wealthy girl away from you?”

“We’re all mates here at Hogwarts. We respect one another,” says Cedric.

“Oh? Then who was the boy Fleur mentioned… Roger, I believe?” Rita asks with a spicy twinkle in her eyes.

“He’s our friend,” answers Cedric.

“Our _platonic_ friend,” emphasizes Moira.

The door is pulled open by Dumbledore. “Dumbledore!” cries out Rita as her kit suddenly vanishes. “How are you? I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards’ Conference?”

“Enchantingly nasty. I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat…” blankly answers Dumbledore. “The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if two of our Champions is hidden in a broom cupboard.”

Moira and Cedric scurry out of the cupboard and return to the room. They sit next to Fleur and look at the velvet-covered table where four of the five judges are now sitting - Professor Karkaoff, Madame Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman. Rita watches from the corner as she sets up her Quick-Quotes Quill on her parchment.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” says Dumbledore as he sits with the other judges. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

Moira recognizes the large-eyed elderly wizard standing by the window as Garrick Ollivander, wand connoisseur, and fellow Ravenclaw. He is the greatest wandmaker in the world and has helped every witch and wizard in the 20th century in acquiring the perfect wand for them.

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” serenely requests Mr. Ollivander as he steps into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur gets up and hands him her wand.

“Hmmm…” he says as he twirls her wand around like a baton. Fleur’s wand emits pink and gold sparks. He holds it close to his eyes and inspects it. “Yes… nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…”

“A hair from the head of a veela.” proudly explains Fleur. “One of my grandmother’s.”

Moira realizes that Fleur’s veela ancestry must have been what felt familiar to her… and what must be intriguing Roger. She considers telling Roger but decides that it’d be appropriate to let her tell him herself. Moira next wonders if Fleur tried to use her veela charm on Cedric… but from what she remembers from the Quidditch World Cup, her boyfriend seems to be surprisingly unaffected by their abilities.

“Yes,” politely observes Mr. Ollivander, “yes, I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… however, to each their own, and if this suits you…”

Mr. Ollivander runs his fingers along with the wand as he checks for any damages. He mutters “ _Orchideous_!’ and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip. He is pleased with the result, declaring “Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order,” as he collects the flowers and hands them to Fleur with her wand.

“Could I have Miss Crane next?”

Moira gets up. She and Fleur exchange another smile of female solidarity as they pass one another. Mr. Ollivander notices Moira’s Ravenclaw robe and tie. He flashes her a warm smile as she hands him her wand.

“Ah yes…I remember this one.” Mr. Ollivander says with much more enthusiasm. “A rarity… ebony wood… phoenix feather… female to be exact… This exquisite phoenix was clever… and very strong-willed… I had to negotiate with her to allow me to acquire only one of her feathers…. 12 inches…Reasonably supple flexibility… Flawless looking… _Aguamenti_! ”

Mr. Ollivander produces a cascade of clear water from the tip of her wand. He takes a spare cup from the judge’s table to contain the water. He hands the ebony wand back to Moira, who is visibly pleased with herself, saying “It works vivaciously. Mr. Diggory, if you please.”

Moira and Cedric exchange suspenseful smirks as they pass each other. Cedric hands over his wand to the connoisseur.

“This is another of mine, isn’t it?” happily notes Mr. Ollivander as he studies Cedric’s wand. “Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn… must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches… ash… pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition… You treat it regularly?”

“Polished it last night.” says a grinning Cedric who is having an instant confidence boost.

“ _Circulum Fumi_!” Mr. Ollivander sends a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand. Satisfied that his creations are living up to his reputation, Mr. Ollivander calls for a slouching Viktor, the last Champion, who waddles towards him.

“Hmmm…” remarks a skeptical Mr. Ollivander as he inspects Viktor’s wand, “this is a Gregorovitch creation unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I… however… yes… hornbeam and dragon heartstring?”

Viktor nods. Mr. Ollivander continues, “Rather thicker than one usually sees… quite rigid… ten and a quarter inches… _Avis_!”

A BOOM leaves the hornbeam and a small group of birds flies from the tip of Viktor’s wand exits the room through the open window. Mr. Ollivander returns the wand to Viktor. “Good.” is the wandmaker’s only conclusion.

“Thank you all,” announces Dumbledore as he rises from his seat. “You may go to dinner as -”

A man with a black camera jumps up and clears his throat. Bagman notices and says “Photos, Dumbledore! Photos!” in an urgent tone. “All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?”

“Yes…let’s do those first… and then perhaps some individual shots,” responds Rita.

The group photographs take a while, mostly because the photographer has a hard time staging Maxine as she keeps casting a shadow on everyone. He eventually decides that Maxime would have to sit while everyone else stood around her. To make the photo appear “fair”, Rita has the other judges sit around Maxime while the Champions would stand behind their respective Headmasters.

“Let’s have a photo of just the Champions, shall we?” proposes Rita.

The judges leave the frame. Right before the Champions could orient themselves, Rita decides to intervene. She arranges two chairs and asks the female Champions to sit while the male Champions would stand behind the chairs. Despite disliking the “traditional” feel of the concept, Moira begrudgingly sits on the left chair (from the camera’s perspective) while Fleur quietly sits on the right chair. Cedric opts to stand behind Moira and Viktor stands behind Fleur. Cedric subconsciously places his hand on Moira’s chair while Viktor keeps his hands to himself.

After a few photos are taken of the teenagers, Rita walks around the group. She strokes her hand across Fleur’s face and lightly slaps her. Rita then shakes Moira’s shoulders and proceeds to mess up Cedric’s hair. She takes in Viktor’s stature and settles on staring at him, which makes Viktor visibly uncomfortable.

“I’d like to take some individual shots,” Rita orders the group and the photographer.

She starts with Viktor who stands with his staff. Fleur opts to sit back on the chair. After his girlfriend affectionately fixes her hair, Cedric removes the chair from the camera frame and offers a few smiles. Moira, who also opts to stand for her portrait, smiles with a victor’s resolution.

Just as everyone is about to leave for dinner, Rita opens her mouth once more. “Could I just get the lovebirds together for a portrait?” requests Rita, who obviously won’t take no for an answer.

The Hogwarts co-Champions awkwardly stand next to one another as neither one of them wants Rita to publish a photo of them that would earn a Howler from their families.

“Don’t be shy!” exclaims Rita. “Cedric, why don’t you place your hand around Moira’s waist? And Moira, just shift your bosom… towards Cedric’s chest just a little… Now just relax a little… AH! YES! Hold it right there!”

Moira and Cedric give their best smiles as the camera flashes blind them.

By the time the Champions make it to dinner, the Great Hall is somewhat empty. Neither of the Durmstrang boys nor the Beauxbatons girls are around. Roger and Salvia must have eaten earlier. “Viktor! Fleur! Care to join us?” offers Cedric in his most Hufflepuff tone. Fleur and Viktor nod. They gather around the Hufflepuff table and enjoy their meal as Hogwarts students whisper and gawk at the Champions willfully conversing with one another.

Fleur, wanting to continue the conversation from earlier, has the couple recall the “how they met and got together” story. It is not a question that either of them encounters often, but when they do, this is how they summarize it:

“We met on the train as first-years. I left my compartment and then came back to find him sitting there.” begins Moira.

“She offered me Honeydukes sweets and we started talking. We stuck together until the sorting ceremony, where… well, it’s obvious how that went, but we continued to be friends until our third-year.”

“We got onto the Hogwarts Express that day as friends but by the time we got off, we started dating,” concludes Moira.

“How cute!” responds Fleur.

As Fleur explains that she was suspecting the romantic nature of their relationship as far back as the Chamber Room debate (she claims that they gave themselves away when Cedric started defending his co-Champion “too passionately”), Moira is finding Viktor to be the most silent man that she has ever met. His eyes keep glancing over to the Gryffindor table in search of something… or someone, but he seems to be unable to find them.

Two servings of dinner later, the amicably acquainted Triwizard Champions wave each other off. Moira and Cedric head in one direction while Fleur and Viktor head in the other.

“How do you think the article will turn out tomorrow?” asks Cedric as they exit the Great Hall.

“Merlin only knows,” says Moira.

“Ah! I expected you’d be here!” says a familiar voice. They turn around and find Professor Trelawney approvingly looking at them.

“You look tired/exhausted, Cedric.” observes a suddenly worried Trelawney. “You must sleep more, my dear, for you’ll be having to exert your strength in a moment you least expect!”

A confused Cedric responds. “Professor I can assure you that I-”

“Please! I must insist you immediately go straight to bed!” stresses Trelawney.

Cedric nods and bids the women good night. Watching him descend down the stairs, Trelawney whimsically smiles at the other teenager. “Let’s have some tea, Moira.”


	7. Chapter 7

In a small but cozy living room within the North Tower, Trelawney serves Moira a cup of pumpkin tea. As the temperature is just right, Moira downs the tea. She swirls the cup three times from left to right and pours out the rest of the liquid. She hands the cup to Trelawney, who looks at the cup. She chuckles and places it down. 

“What does it say?” asks a worried Moira 

“We’re not reading tea leaves today! I wanted to have a chat! I sense you have a question for me.” exclaims Trelawney. 

Moira raises an eyebrow at her. "Oh, I see.”

“There is more to me than my Seeing abilities, you know.” 

A candle lights up in Moira’s head. 

“Did you know about the Goblet of Fire?” 

Trelawney chuckles again. “Didn’t we all?” 

“Did you know that the Goblet of Fire was going to name a fourth Champion... A Hogwarts co-Champion? ” Moira asks worriedly. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you know that it was going to be me?” 

Trelawney looks at her inquisitively. “Yes, which is why I invited you over." 

"Can you see why it added a fourth person? Why did it name me?" begs Moira. 

"As you’ve learned, one cannot command to See. Seeings merely… occur.” reminds Trelawney. 

“And what do you See, Professor?” 

“What I have already Seen, my little bird. Give me your hands, Moira.” requests the professor in a nonchalant tone. Moira is emotionally annoyed but is logically understanding of her words. 

Moira offers her hands, which Trelawney grasps onto maternally. She vulnerably looks the teenager directly in the eye and says “I sense you will be flustered for a great while, but fear not, my dear sweet child. Whatever it is you feel an urge to do through your journey, I implore you to act on it immediately.” 

Trelawney pauses. Moira sees her eyes become smoky. “Know that you will be very afraid," she warns while being choked up. "You will be terrified. You will feel anguish. You will feel lost. But I beg of you… Do not let what you see stop you as you will be absolutely glorious! Prioritize victory over fear! Most importantly, you must know that I will be right here for you when you need me the most.”

The Seer brings Moira into a tight bear hug and kisses her on the forehead. Much to Moira’s surprise, the hug is oddly comforting. She allows herself to sink into the hug and feel the emotionality of her professor. “Great fortune to you, my dear,” whispers Trelawney. 

The next morning in the Great Hall, Salvia, who has been keenly reading the _Daily Prophet_ , immediately hides the newspaper upon seeing Moira and Cedric join her at the Hufflepuff table. 

“Salvia, is everything alright?” asks Cedric, who noticed Salvia’s panicked reaction. She nods her head. 

“Are you sure?” he asks as he sits next to her. Salvia shakes her head. 

“You know you can tell me, right?” he continues. Salvia flashes him a nervous smile. 

An irate Roger barges onto the table with an irate expression as he slams his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ onto the table. The paper unfolds. The headline, which is completed with the co-Champions’ portrait, is titled: _Diggory vs Crane: Lovers or Rivals?_

“Mate, you know I would never do that to you! It’s not true!” a now fist-clenching Roger complains to Cedric, who takes a cautious step back to avoid a potential punch in the face. 

“Roger, what are you talking about?” asks a confused Cedric. Roger looks at him for a moment and calms down. 

“Great Merlin, you haven’t read it, have you? I was hoping that Skeeter would do her job for once and take it easy on you both for obvious reasons but…” explains Roger. “My brother’s gonna kill me when he reads this and my mum’s gonna send me a Howler.” 

Amongst the conflict, Moira begins to examine the paper. 

“Trust me, Moira, you don’t want to read this. It’s bad… like really bad.” warns a nervous-looking Salvia. Ignoring her friend’s advice, Moira snatches Roger’s copy and begins to read the article. Salvia reluctantly gives her copy to Cedric, who immediately starts reading. 

To summarize the article, Rita Skeeter defines the Hogwarts co-Champions (written as “Champions”), Moira Crane, and Cedric Diggory, as lovers who had conspired to join the Triwizard Tournament in an attempt to seek personal glory outside of their respective lineages. Though their plan has appeared to work, it seems to have brought in more complications than benefits. The prideful couple, apparently, is toxically competitive with one another and they shudder at the thought of losing to the other. Moira, in particular, feels that she owes it to witches everywhere to beat the male Champion at all costs. Boys all over Hogwarts are pressuring Cedric to not allow “a spoiled girl” to outsmart him, a sentiment that Cedric shares. This, of course, is before you add the fact that co-Champions belong to different Houses and feel that their loyalties lie with their Houses more than it does with Hogwarts… let alone each other. Outside of the Tournament, Cedric (who compensates for his frivolous ways with his visual appeal) struggles to keep Moira (the picturesque heiress) away from Roger, a conniving boy who seeks to take his place as Moira Crane’s “plaything”. The couple, according to Rita Skeeter, is currently rethinking their intention to elope after graduating from Hogwarts. 

The only time that Fleur and Viktor are referenced is when Skeeter identifies them alongside the judges in the two photos, but it seems to be added as something Moira’s parents would call “unnecessary flowery details”. These photos, unfortunately, can be seen on page two… but only fervent readers flip the page. 

As he finishes the article, Cedric openly grimaces. “None of this is true! We didn’t say any of this! This is the exact opposite of what we said.” he sounds off as his face becomes red. 

“We know, Cedric. It’s obviously too out of character. Right, Roger?” says Salvia. Roger nods. The group turns into a taciturn Moira, who appears to have finished reading as well. She looks to be in deep thought. 

“Moira? What’s on your mind?” asks Roger. “You look like you’re plotting like an assassin.”

“That’s because I am, Roger.” fires back Moira with an extremely restrained temper. 

“At least eat something first. Both of you should before continuing to react. Roger, grab them plates.” says Salvia. “What would you both like?” 

“I’ve lost my appetite,” says Cedric. 

“Me too,” adds Moira. 

“Eat so you can think clearly! You can’t let this… fuckery ruin your day.” says a concerned Salvia. “We still have classes to attend, and you both have a Task to prepare for… you both remember that it’s coming up soon, right?” 

The rest of breakfast is filtered with a cumbersome atmosphere. As the Ravenpuff Gang walks together to class, every single student openly stares and exchange blatantly intrusive or negative remarks, including: 

“You can tell that Crane’s faking that smile as she did with her face when her name was called out. She knew exactly what she was doing”

“I thought they broke up.”

“Isn’t that Roger Davies? What’s he still doing with them?” 

“If Diggory can’t handle a girl beating him, he should fuck off.” 

“How can he stay with someone who cheated her way into competing?” 

“Moira can do so much better than Diggory and Davies.” 

“Is Boswell trying to steal Diggory? Are they all sharing each other now?”

“Aren’t they too young to be eloping?” 

“Crane and Diggory are always together. Don’t tell me that he didn’t know that she cheated because he did. He obviously helped her. How do we know he’s worthy too.” 

“This whole Tournament’s a sham.” 

The group tries to ignore the gossiping, but it proves to be difficult. As Moira settles next to Roger in the Charms classroom, Flitwick offers her a sympathetic smile. The class runs smoothly but the concentration amongst the students is nonexistent. As soon as the class is over, Moira begins to quickly pack her bag and stands with Roger to join Salvia and Cedric. 

“Moira!” calls out Professor Flitwick. “May I speak to you privately?” 

She nervously nods. 

“We’ll wait for you outside,” says Salvia as she leaves alongside Cedric and Roger. Moira walks up to the professor who is clearing the chalkboard with his wand. 

“Moira, are you alright?” asks Flitwick as soon as everyone clears the room. 

“Of course, Professor!” replies Moira with a feigned smile. 

Flitwick frowns. “Moira, this conversation is confidential. I’m not reporting this to Dumbledore. It’s been a rough few days for you. Are you okay?” 

Moira is silent for a few seconds. As she begins to speak, her voice shakes and cracks. She slowly loses her grip. “I think everyone’s going to hate me. Everyone’s been looking at me strangely and I know they’re all talking behind my back. I’m fairly confident that everyone but Ravenclaw, Salvia, and Cedric think I’ve messed with the Goblet… and that article…. Merlin, I hate _her_ so much! Not even a quarter of that article is true! It’s all lies, Professor! I did not cheat my way into the Triwizard Tournament! You have to believe me!” 

“I do Moira,” reassures Flitwick as he places a tin on his desk. He must have planned for this, as she’s heard from other students that the tin is usually in his office. He removes a cupcake and charms them. Each cupcake grows two stringy cartoonish arms and legs. They stand on the hind legs and begin to cutely dance. Moira laughs for the first time since the week started. Once the dance is over, he decharms the cupcake and gives her one. 

“I cannot say that I understand how you are feeling, but I too am confounded and frustrated. Know that we Professors believe what you have to say… even if it isn’t always implied. My advice to you, and I suppose this would also apply to Mr. Diggory, is that you focus on the literal Task at hand. Anyone can question your motives but no one can question your abilities. _Show_ everyone that you are worthy.” 

Moira, with her cupcake in hand, thanks Flitwick and leaves the classroom. Cedric and Salvia wait for her. 

“Roger had to leave for Ancient Runes. How was he?” asks Cedric. 

“I got a cupcake,” answers Moira as she begins to enjoy the blue velvet and chocolate cupcake. 

“That bad?” notes Salvia as they descend down a flight of stairs.

“I didn’t cry. He just wanted to see how I was feeling. Gave me a few words of encouragement, that’s all.” 

The atmosphere of Herbology, unfortunately, is not all that different. The only students that are semi-warm towards the co-Champions are the students of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Observing the coldness of the classroom, Sprout is visibly uncomfortable and ends the class a few minutes early. 

“Cedric! Could I have a word with you please?” nicely requests Professor Sprout. 

He nods and turns to the girls. “I’ll tell Hagrid that you’ll be slightly late,” says Salvia. 

“I’ll be in the library in about an hour,” says Moira. The ladies leave as Cedric begins to turn his attention to the Professor, who is also the Head of Hufflepuff. 

“I’ve desperately got to pee before heading to the cabin,” complains Salvia as they leave the greenhouse. 

A few minutes later, Moira and Salvia are quietly leaving the lavatory stalls as they overhear a youthful and girly chuckle. 

“Taz? Dahlia?” asks a voice from the other side of the lavatory that sounds familiar to Moira. 

“Yeah?” responds two other girls. 

“Did you read the article?” asks the first voice. 

“Yeah! I’m supporting Moira Crane!” answers a girl with an air of superiority. 

“I’m Cedric Diggory all the way.” answers another girl with a besotted tone. 

Moira and Salvia share a “can you believe this?” expression. The duo silently agrees to eavesdrop. 

“Taz, you only say that because you want to snog him! What about you, Heidi? Are you for Diggory or are you for Crane?” asks the arrogant sounding girl. 

Heidi is silent for a few seconds before responding. “I’m supporting both.” 

“Heidi, do you honestly think that people are going to be supporting _both_ Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory?” asks the voice that must belong to Taz. 

“Yes! Yes, I do! And besides, you can’t snog him. He’s dating Moira. They’re madly in love and he talks about her in between all of his other stories!” answers Heidi. “Also you’re eleven years old!” 

This only confirms what Moira was suspecting: the most reasonable girl in the room is Heid Grove, the Hufflepuff girl she met yesterday. 

“Right… He’s your Prefect…” says Taz. “Did you see that part in the article Skeeter says that the Tournament is upsetting them both? They don’t want the other person to win! Seems like they’re behaving like proper Slytherins!” 

Moira and Salvia follow the direction of the voices. Discreetly looking over, the sixth-years find that the first-year girls are bickering in front of the sinks. 

“No, they’re not!” says Heidi. “And please keep your hatred of Slytherin to yourself.” 

“I can’t help it!” complains Taz, who is Gryffindor robes. “ Besides, how do you know?” 

“I just… know. You know how I said I had to escort them somewhere yesterday? Well, they look really happy together.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” insists Taz. 

“Well, I don’t care for the article! As girls, I think we ought to be supporting our female Hogwarts champion. Shame on you for supporting a boy just because he’s good-looking, Taz!” scolds Dahlia, who is in Ravenclaw robes. 

“I agree with you, Dahlia! Girl power all the way! But he was picked first… and there’s supposed to be three of them... And he’s so pretty!” explains Taz. 

“Moira’s very pretty! She even plays Quidditch! And she too was selected by the Goblet of Fire!” lashes out Dahlia. 

“They both are very pretty and they both play Quidditch! And they both were selected by the Goblet of Fire! ” corrects a very frustrated Heidi. 

Needing to badly wash their hands, Moira and Salvia approach the sinks. Moira clears her throats. The first-years turn and see Moira and Salvia looking at them. The first-years move out of the way as the sixth-years wash their hands. 

“Hi Moira,” says Heidi.

“Hi, Heidi.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear all of that,” says Heidi. 

“I would like to say that I don’t want to steal your boyfriend. I just like his… face… and his hair. That’s all.” clarifies Taz. “He looks like a Ken doll.” 

Everyone except Dahlia raises their eyebrows at Taz. 

“I don’t know what that is,” says Moira. 

“It’s a muggle doll that looks like a boy.” continues Taz, who is extremely embarrassed. “I’m... Muggle-born so-” 

“-That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It sounds like a compliment to me,” assures Moira with a smile. 

“And you’re like a Barbie-doll!” adds Dahlia. “It’s also a Muggle doll that looks like a girl. Barbie and Ken are girlfriend and boyfriend… like you and Cedric!” 

Moira’s cheeks become hot. 

“There’s a lot of people taking sides, unfortunately. There's a lot for Cedric but there’s a lot for you even outside of Ravenclaw,” explains Dahlia. “Us witches gotta stick together.” 

“Thank you…” says Moira. 

After they leave the lavatory, Salvia bursts out laughing. Feeling her sense of humor bursting at the seams of her lips, Moira breaks into a laugh as well as various students stare at her. As Salvia heads to Creature Care class, Moira returns back to Ravenclaw Tower. 

“Moira! Your owl brought you a box!. I put it on your bed if that’s alright with you!” says Cho as she’s reading through a textbook on one of the common room couches. 

“Thanks!” replies Moira as she heads for the sixth year dormitory. Once upstairs, Moira sees a letter that is tied on top of a small box. The envelope says: “Read me first!” Moira unties the ribbon and opens up the envelope. It’s a letter from Angelica. 

_Dear Moira,_

_Congratulations! I’ve sent you a little gift that is attached to this letter. You’re going to need this more than I would. Carry it with you wherever you go! There’s always something to discover!_

_Good luck!_

_Love,_

_Angelica_

_P.S. Mum and Dad say that they are going to answer soon. They’re hot fuming mad about the article talking rubbish about you and Cedric. They’re in the midst of doing “damage control” for you both. They’re going to talk to the Diggorys this afternoon._

Moira places the letter down and unboxes the package. She removes the item from a small wooden box and finds that the gift Angelica referred to is a pair of gold omnioculars. She places her new omnioculars back in the case and places the case in her bag. Looking into the package once more, Moira finds her old copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_ by Newt Scamander, which means that Angelica went through her stuff at home. “What are you trying to tell me, Gelly?” mutters Moira.

Wandering around the various sections, Moira remembers that Crouch has never given them any clue for the first Task. All she knows for sure is that the challenge in itself must be fear-inducing to require “courage”. To help her brainstorm, she stacks up on various textbooks on the Triwizard Tournament, including a recently returned copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ by Bathilda Bagshot. 

She finds a table and carefully places the books down before she accidentally drops and damages them. Moira stares at the tower of books as Cedric finds her and sits across her with a disheveled expression. 

“How’d the conversation with Sprout go?” asks Moira. 

“It was fine. She wanted to check-in with everything that happened… especially after this morning. Sort of what you had with Flitwick, but without the cupcakes… Just plants. ” he replies. 

“Speaking of which, how are you feeling?” she asks once more. 

Cedric sighs and rubs his temples. “I just got a letter from my parents. Not a Howler but… they’re not happy with the article. They know it’s all lies but… they’re worried. What… what about you?”

Moira shrugs. “I haven’t heard back from my parents yet but I heard back from Angelica.” 

“What did she say?” 

“They’re upset. Understandably. Apparently, they’re trying to do “damage control” for us, and my parents are going to talk to your parents.” 

“My parents mentioned that.” 

“How’d it go? What’d they say?” 

“They said that your parents apologized profusely and that your dad feels responsible for letting that happen.” 

Moira rolls her eyes at the end of his sentence. “Of course he does…. I’m not rolling my eyes at you. That’s exactly what Dad said last time! He could have gotten rid of Skeeter… but he didn’t! He didn’t try hard enough. He threw a hissy fit more than took action! He wasn’t aggressive about it. If only he fired her, everyone wouldn’t be hating us right now!” she laments. “What else did they say?” 

“They said, and I know that Mum wrote this, ‘Chin up, Ced!’ Which is… delightful… but not as easy as they say. Some of my first-years told me that I should stop being friends with Roger… and Salvia is the only person who’d talk to me during Magical Creatures. Everyone thinks we’ve cheated, Moira.” 

“And we didn’t… but I understand how you feel. I overheard Heidi, your Heidi, fighting with her friends about which person they were supporting… It seems that the notion of supporting _two_ Champions supporting your school is unfathomable… but they’re obviously repeating what other students are beginning to say.” 

“Which is what?” 

“You might not like what you hear.”

“Try me.”

“Are you sure you want to hear this?” 

“I’d like to know what we’re walking into for the next few weeks, yes. Tell me… I won’t be upset.” 

“Well… some students see you as the true Champion because your name came up first. Others support you because they want to snog you.” 

He laughs. “Want to hear what they’re saying about you?” 

“I think I have a rough idea, but sure. Go ahead.” 

“You’re beginning to form a fanbase… especially amongst the younger girls. You even have your own slogan. ‘Moira Crane: Equally Pretty, Equally Worthy’ _…_ That’s what some girls started chanting in the courtyard today.”

“What time was that?” 

Cedric looks at his watch and combs through his memory. “I would say around 10:30?” 

“Hmmm… I can think of at least three people who might have inspired those words.” 

“Whom?” 

“Heidi, her Ravenclaw friend Dahlia, or Salvia… On a positive note, we’re being compared to Muggle dolls that seem to be culturally significant… and also apparently attractive looking… "

“...Which is nice but there’s more to us than our looks… or our relationship, you know? I want people to see us for what we’ve achieved, not… gossip.” 

“Well… there’s only one way to rectify that. Your mum’s right, Cedric. Chin up. We still got a Tournament to win.” says Moira as she hands the book on top of her library stack to Cedric and picks up another for herself.“ Shall we get started?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some swearing

It has been about two weeks since Cedric Diggory and Moira Crane have decided to join their brains together to focus on preparing for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Their routines have been the same: Breakfast, Class, Homework at the Library, Lunch, Class, Dinner, Task Work Library, Practice, Bed, Repeat. Outside of classes and meals, Roger and Salvia haven’t seen much of them… except to pull their Housemates out of the library before 8 pm. Despite a marvelous combination of their discipline, willpower, patience, intelligence, and creative thinking, they keep finding themselves at square one. With only ten days left before the first Task, they begin to feel themselves plateau. 

The co-Champions find themselves at the same table they sit at every single evening. Their routine has become so notable to frequent library visitors that many of the students warn each other not to sit at “The Champions’ Table”. 

“Remind me again, what did Crouch say exactly?” asks a frazzled Moira as she rests her head on the table. 

“That the First Task involves courage and a wand.” answers an equally frazzled Cedric, who stares at the ceiling. She raises her head to look at him. 

“Courage and a wand…. So it’s supposed to be scary, dangerous, or both…. And we’re supposed to use our wands.”

“I’d say that’s accurate. I reckon it’s either offensive, defensive, or a bit of both… but not dueling because that’s forbidden.” 

“When was that ever said?” 

“It was a rule in previous Tournaments. I read it somewhere in one of the books.” 

“Ah. So no dueling… which leaves us with defense and safety. Probably not Dark Arts.” 

“No, I doubt the Ministry would allow it. It could be creatures … or something truly death-defying. Such as….” 

“Such as…?” 

“I honestly can’t think of anything.” 

She groans. “This is the worst riddle ever.” 

“Moira, this isn’t a riddle.” 

“No, but this is a fun thought exercise.” 

“That is the most Ravenclaw thing you have ever said,” remarks Cedric.

“It’s only now you’re noticing?” wittily asks Moira. 

“No, but your House affiliation is flaring up as you speak…” He pauses. “Can I be honest with you?” 

“Of course.” 

“Er… I think we should call it a night.” hesitatingly states Cedric. “I’m not saying that we should give up but… we’ve been in circles about this for weeks now…” 

She sighs. “I know but- but if we’ve missed something-” 

“-We haven’t… but if we have… I…” Cedric gives up on speaking and shrugs. He closes his eyes and rubs his face. 

“You should get some sleep,” observes Moira. “Actually, we both should.”

Of course, neither of them actually goes to bed. In fact, they individually spend the night brainstorming and reading on their beds and in their Common Rooms. When Moira and Cedric arrive in the Dark Arts classroom the next day, Moody eyes them, looks at the classroom clock, and back at them. He shoots them a threatening stare. 

“Diggory! Crane! You’re both late!” calls out the professor. 

Cedric looks down at his watch. “Professor Moody… we’re on time.” 

“And neither of you are seated. Consider yourself tardy!” 

Moira and Cedric share a perplexed expression. 

“But Professor… you haven’t started your lesson yet…” says Moira. 

“No, but you will start your detention tonight at the Forbidden Forest! Now, if you please, sit!”

Since Moody appears to be already in a foul mood, the couple sits. Cedric’s eyes are stupefyingly widened while Moira’s jaw is agape. As the lesson goes on, Moira’s quill writing is impacted by her shaky hand as she feels the vibrations on the ground from Cedric’s foot tapping. Neither of them has ever received detention until this point in time. The timing of it all, Moira finds, is simply horrible. A minute in detention is a minute that could have been spent in preparing for the Task…. And another that is not spent in preparing for the Task could be a point lost. 

Moira is not exactly looking forward to the Howler that she knows that her parents will send. She witnessed Bryn receiving one during her first year over lunchtime and the ferocity of her parents’ synced voices is an audio clip that she could never quite shrug off. Cedric, who has worked tirelessly to become Prefect last year, is not entirely sure if he could lose his position… but he knows for a fact that he won’t be able to walk out of this situation without at least some sort of penalization. 

The couple’s mutual anxiety bleeds into dinner, where they spend more time profusely apologizing to each other than actually eating. After that, they drag each other to their first-ever penalty session with Professor Mad-Eye Moody, who awaits them at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest with a devious smirk on his face. 

“Welcome to Detention. I would like to begin our detention together by stating that this is not a detention.” 

Moira gives Moody a double-take. “You’re joking.” 

“I do not joke, Miss Crane,” Moody responds with a straight face. 

As she skeptically nods. Cedric lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin.” 

“I will say that I’ve been watching you both figure this out.”

“And? How are we doing?” asks Moira. 

“You’re close but…. It’s painful to watch and I can’t bear it. Maxime has told her Champion, and I’m sure Karkaroff has figured it out by now. So I’m here to help.” 

Moira and Cedric wait for Moody to say something else. He laughs in response.

“I’m not telling you anything. I’m not allowed to. You both need to go into the Forest and follow the scent of thick smoke.” 

“And how do we get back here without getting lost?” asks Cedric. 

Moody shrugs. “There’s two of you. Don’t get lost. Now go!” He politely shoves the co-Champions “Go on! Get going!” 

They begin to start walking into the Forbidden Forest. Cedric and Moira pull out their wands. “ _Lumos_!” Although they can both discern their surroundings, their natural fear subconsciously slows their pace. 

“Wait, I’ve got an idea,” says Cedric. “ _Cave Inicum_!” An invisible shield surrounds the two of them, making them virtually invisible to the creatures and any human wandering around the woods. “That way, we won’t be caught. And no one can hear us either… or smell us… I think. I’m sure concealment spells also affect creatures. We’ll be completely fine.” 

Following the scent of thick smoke, they confidently stride through the forest. 

“There’s a creature involved.” guesses Moira. “Why else would he send us here?” 

“I agree, but what creature?” 

They continue to follow the smokey scent until a large metallic bar fence blocks them. They see large shadows cast by the moonlight from afar, but it proves to be difficult to identify. 

“I can’t see anything,” says Cedric. “Can you?” 

“No, but I have something that can help us.” 

Moira takes out Angelica’s gift from her bag. She takes out the Omnioculars and adjusts the filter. Still unable to make-out the now moving figures, she magnifies the lens… which leaves her stomach rattled in knots and her hands shaking. She stops looking for a few seconds and then looks into them again to confirm what she just saw: 

Dragons… Four of them to be exact. Four fully grown, viscous-looking, fire-breathing dragons. The first that catches Moira’s attention is a silvery blue with long-pointed horns. She finds another dragon that is green, scaly, and foul-tempered. She then pans over to another one that is red with golden spikes. Finally, she sees that the last one, the most gigantic of them all, is black and is the most lizard-like. A large group of wizards appears to be stunning them. 

“Oh fuck.” observes Moira. She removes the Omnioculars and attempts to compute what she just watched. Cedric becomes extremely alarmed by her repetitive action. 

“What’s wrong? Moira, what’s wrong?” asks Cedric. 

She hands him the Omnioculars and returns to her freak out. He looks and sees the dragons for the first time. 

“This is a joke, right? Moody’s having a laugh with us, isn’t he?” continues Cedric. Moira shakes her head. 

“Is he serious?” he now asks with his jaw fully agape. She nods. 

Moira gives Cedric a look. “Did you not see what I just saw or am I going completely mad?” 

“I did.” He replies as he looks back into the Omnioculars. “I did… I see four of them. Blue, green, red, and black, right?” 

“That’s them!” confirms Moira. 

He nods and gives back the Omnioculars. “Alright, let’s get out of here.“ 

Using Cedric’s wand, the co-Champions maneuver speed-walking their way through the Forbidden Forest, where Moody casually welcomes their return as he studies their paled faces. 

“I’ve seen you figured out the Task… well, part of it anyway,” observes Moody. 

“There’s more?!” asks Moira. 

“You both know that I can’t answer that,” smirks Moody as he begins to walk away. Moira and Cedric and proceed to eagerly follow him. 

“Then why bother telling us about this then?” argues Moira with a careful tone. 

“We weren’t even supposed to know about this!” calmly adds Cedric. 

“You can’t just tell us about the dragons and then leave us on a cliff-hanger!” says Moira. 

As the teenagers complain, Moody shakes his head. 

“Cheating, Mr. Diggory and Miss Crane, have been a tradition of the Tournament in the past. And it still is now. I’ve tried to tell Dumbledore, but he wouldn’t listen… You’re both welcome, and this never happened. Good night, and try not to get burnt into a crisp.” concludes the Auror. 

Before the couple can respond. Moody simply… vanishes. 

The pair turns to one another. “We should check out the Dragon Section after class tomorrow.” strongly suggests Moira. 

As soon as their classes finish the next day, the newly motivated Hogwarts co-Champions rush over to the library and discretely head straight for the Dragon Section without trying their best to look suspicious. 

“Right! So… Dragons! Very scary… very dangerous! Thus the need for courage -” riddles Moira as they look through their new stack of books at the library. 

“-And the need for wands! But are we fighting the dragon?” muses Cedric as he picks up one of the books. 

“Perhaps… but that’s too advanced for someone our age isn’t it? Would it even be permitted?” reasons Moira. “That’s not something you would withhold from a group of seventeen-year-olds…Unless… unless…” 

Moira goes silent as she thinks. As Cedric reads, his eyes reread a paragraph. “Dragons are highly aggressive and will sometimes attack wizards and witches without provocation. They’re also very territorial,” he notes. “So perhaps it’s not necessarily about fighting…” 

“Could I read that?” she asks, to which he happily hands over the book. She skims the paragraph, and strongly resists the urge to grab her quill and mark up the book. 

“Territorial…..” she mumbles to herself. “Territorial…” She allows the word to marinate with her tongue until a candle finally lights up in her mind. A smile finally breaks out on her face and she lets out a laugh that says “Eureka!” 

“They aren’t the Task!” cries out Moira in a hushed tone. “They’re the obstacle! Think about it….If the dragons are as territorial as the book claims, they will attack us… but as you said, it’s not about fighting them… It’s about staying alive as we get past them!” 

A dumbfounded Cedric catches on to Moira’s logic. “But creatures are never territorial for the sake of being territorial. Only humans do that. They become territorial when there’s something to protect… And if I’ve learned anything from Creature Care… it’s that it usually involves young. Or in the case of dragons… Eggs.” 

The couple looks at each other with their mouths agape for a brief moment before they silently geek out. They hug and share a celebratory kiss. 

Another candle lights up in Moira’s mind and she instantly ceases her celebrations. “I think Angelica knows.” 

Cedric furrows his eyebrows. “What? How?” 

“At the station, my mum covered her mouth before she said something. And that was right after my dad basically hinted at the Tournament.” 

“I can see that happening, but the dragons?” 

“Angelica knows everything. Remember when she found out about us and told our parents that we were dating? She sent me my copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ , which I left at home, … and the Omnioculars!” she explains as though unraveling a conspiracy theory. 

“Your sister works in mysterious ways,” says Cedric. 

Moira shrugs. “I think she’s just a massive eavesdropper… I need to get that book from my dorm. And we need to refine our defense…” 

Right before dinner, Moira returns to her dorm to retrieve her copy of _Fantastic Beasts_. As they eat in the corner of one of the Ravenclaw table, they flip through the pages and read the section on dragons. They recognize the dragons amongst the pages as the Common Welsh Green Dragon, the Chinese Fireball also known as the Liondragon (the red dragon), the Hungarian Horntail (which is the fiercest of them all), and the Swedish Short-Snout (the blue dragon). Running back to the library, they split the research on the dragons and take notes on each dragon’s quirks. After an hour of note-taking, they begin to exchange their findings. 

“The Common Welsh dragon is very subdued… which probably means that it is least likely to attack us. They also avoid humans, so whoever deals with it is going to have the best time out of all of us,” says Moira. “The Swedish Short-Snouts don’t seem to come into contact with humans all that much, BUT they are agile flyers… and their burns appear to be quite nasty. So if we deal with that one, we ought to be very careful,” says Moira. 

Cedric continues the self-lecture. “That’s nothing compared to the Hungarian Horntail. They fly extremely fast, their flames reach over fifty feet, and their roars are said to be deafening. They’re also extremely protective, so it fits our theory… Hopefully, we don’t have to face this one.” 

“Did you find anything on the Fireball?” she inquires. 

He reads through his notes. “Fast, clever, shoots mushroom-shaped flames, and has protruding eyes… prefers humans and pigs. Let’s assume they all prefer to devour humans…” He closes the book and looks at Moira. “We can’t fight them and there’s no use outrunning them… but we can outsmart them.” 

“That only leaves us with two options: Charms and Transfiguration.” Moira thinks aloud. “In other words…. Enchanting and distracting them. Good thing we’re NEWT students.” 

Finally progressing, the co-Champions rethink their routines for the remaining time: Wake up, Breakfast, Classes, Homework, Lunch, Classes, Dinner, Training, Sleep and Repeat. Every night, they sneak into a vast room on the seventh floor where they can freely conjure spells on various objects, make epic mistakes, and yell freely without getting caught. On the evening of November 23rd, the couple finishes running through several spells for one last round before fatigue overwhelms them. Cedric checks his watch and realizes that it’s nearly midnight. They carefully exit and quietly go downstairs where Cedric walks Moira to Ravenclaw Tower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” says Cedric. 

“It must be past midnight now,” replies Moira, 

He checks his watch again and nervously laughs. “It is. This is it. We’re facing dragons in a few hours.” 

“We are…” says an amazed Moira, “And we’re now officially at the point of no return.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Moira wakes up with blood rushing through her system. She attempts to return back to sleep but ultimately rises from her bed. She washes her face, brushes her teeth, and takes a quick shower. After slipping into a Ravenclaw sweater, a pair of sweatpants, and her sneakers, Moira decides that she would prefer to not have a dragon set her hair on fire. She immediately reaches for a comb and divides her hair in half. She patiently braids her hair into two simple cornrow braids. 

During brunch, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick escort Cedric and Moira outside of the castle. 

Viktor slouches in the corner. Fleur, who rocks herself on a wooden stool, glances at the Hogwarts Champions. “They’ve left outfits for us all!” She gestures at two robes amongst the seats. One has “Diggory” written in red with a small star while the other has “CRANE” written with the same star. 

Going into separate cubicles, Moira and Cedric change into their Task outfits. They consist of a simple long sleeve athleisure shirt, a pair of black fingerless gloves, long black track pants, dragonhide boots, padding for her elbows and knees, and a black hooded robe that covers the shirt and pants. Walking out of the cubicles, Moira and Cedric realize that they’re wearing the same exact outfit (which has been obviously tailored to accommodate and flatter their respective body shapes). The only true difference between the Hogwarts co-Champions’ outfits is that Cedric’s shirt and robe details are Hufflepuff yellow while Moira‘s shirt and robe details are in Ravenclaw blue. 

“Time to fill you in!” says Bagman as he walks in with a laugh. The Champions huddle around him. “I’m going to be offering each of you this bag,” He holds up a purple silk sack, “From which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face. There are different… er... Varieties, you see! And I have to tell you something else too… Ah, yes! Your Task is to collect the golden egg!” 

As the group nods, Moira and Cedric share a knowing look, as their theory seems to have proven them right so far. As the stands begin to sound occupied, Bagman opens up the purple silk sack. “Ladies first,” he says to Moira and Fleur. 

The girls look at each other dead in the eye as they lift their trembling hands. They nod and reach inside the sack at the same time. They pull out their models. 

Fleur pulls out a Welsh Green with a number two around its neck. She smiles at the model, which confirms Moody’s words: It looks like Maxime has told Fleur about the dragons. 

Moira opens up her hand and looks down at her model. Her heart nearly stops. She nearly forgets to breathe as she silently gasps... She has unfortunately pulled out the notorious Hungarian Horntail, which bears a number four around its neck. 

Krum is indifferent. As he pulls out the Chinese Fireball with a number three around its neck. 

Cedric puts his hand into the bag last and pulls out the Swedish Short-Snout with a number one tied around its neck. 

“Well, there you are!” says Bagman. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons. Now, I’m going to leave in a moment because I’m commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, alright?”

Cedric and Moira's exchange looks of sheer terror. His face is rather green while her lips quiver. To them, facing the dragon first and dealing with the most dangerous of them all feels like a cruel trick that is being played on them. Placing their models into their pockets, they soothingly but tightly hold each other. They nestle their heads on the nook of the other’s neck. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” whispers Cedric who shakily breathes. 

“You’ve got this, Ced,” reassures Moira with an equally trembling voice. “Please be careful out there.” 

“I should be saying that.” he quips. “You’ve got this, Moira.” 

A whistle is blown. They give each other a nervous but hopeful smile as they interlock their hands and squeeze dearly and transform into an earthquake. 

“I’ll see you on the other side,” states Moira. “Good luck.” 

He nods. “You too.” 

They slowly and painfully release their hands that want to desperately touch just or a while longer. 

Cedric takes a breath and adorns his face with an expression of valor, Moira feels her heartstrings tug and ache as he leaves the tent. She sits down fidgets with her sweaty palms as the three remaining Champions hear the roar of the crowd, which means that he has now entered the enclosure and is now facing the Swedish Short-Snout. 

Though she is relieved that none of them have to watch, her imagination begins to run a little too wild for her taste. 

“Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow!” says Bagman. 

“He’s taking risks, this one!” 

Moira is confident that Cedric is making progress. He must be rather close… but then the crowd lets out an “OOOOOFFFFFF!” which only increases Moira’s heart rate and leaves her gasping. 

“Clever move! Pity it didn’t work!” announces Bagman once more. 

She closes her eyes and tries to picture her boyfriend in action as the crowds continuously cheer, but Bagman’s commentary only worsens her anxiety. Fleur begins to pace around the tent while Viktor remains unnaturally quiet. Moira buries her head between her legs as the minutes go by. 

After what was technically fifteen minutes, the crowd lets out a deafening roar, which only means that Cedric managed to get past the Swedish-Snout and capture the golden egg. 

“Oh thank Merlin...” Moira murmurs as she lets out a sigh of frightening relief. 

“Very good indeed” announces Bagman. “And now the marks from the judges!” 

The marks aren’t announced, but the crowd applauds the scores, indicating that Cedric must have scored high. 

“One down, three to go!” Bagman makes another announcement as the whistle blows. “Miss Delacour, if you please!” 

Fleur, who is still shaking like a wet chicken in the cold, leaves the tent clutching her wand as it is her lifeline… Right now, Moira realizes, it sort of is. The two remaining Champions remain quiet as the acoustic torture began again. 

“Oh, I’m not sure that was wise!” 

Moira deduces that whatever Fleur did, it must have been either reckless or accidental. 

“Oh… nearly! Careful now… good lord, I thought she’d had it then!” 

Ten minutes later, the crowd erupts into cheers. Marks are presumably given, and the whistle is blown. Viktor gets up. He respectfully nods to Moira. She returns the gesture. 

“And here comes Mr. Krum!” announces Bagman. 

He leaves the tent, and Moira is completely isolated. She lets out a shaky breath as her body begins to melt off the chair and into the ground. She wants to yelp, but she covers her mouth and forces the sound back into her body. Her lips wiggle about, but she presses them into a hard line. She nearly begins to rock back and forth, but she becomes as stiff as a needle. Tears begin to form, but Moira commands her eyes to dry up. 

Time has appeared to fly extremely fast as she suddenly hears her own whistle.

“And finally, Miss Crane!” calls Bagman. 

Letting out one final shaky breath. Moira’s body instantly becomes metallic as she stands up. Her soft girlish face has now molded itself into a hardened warrior. Breathing very slowly, she pulls out her wand, and struts outside of the tent. She passes the trees and enters through a gap in the enclosure fence. Right before entering, she senses her nerve hardening itself… she considers it to be a contained rage but quickly realizes that for the first time in her life, she truly feels determination running through her veins. Embracing the point of no return, Moira enters the enclosure as a ruthless gladiator would enter an arena. 

Upon seeing her face, the crowd cheers. Moira is unable to hear anything as her hearing becomes extremely muffled. Moira’s eyesight and her sixth sense now feel extremely attuned as she now faces her adversary: the Hungarian Horntail. The dragon crouches over her eggs as her tail gouges large marks on the ground. 

Feeling the clock ticking, Moira cautiously begins her hunt for the golden egg. Before she can move, in a sick twist, the dragon opens her eyes and spots Moira on the spot. The creature widens her jaw. Without thinking, Moira dives into the nearest rock and watches the fire blaze beside her. She pulls herself and her thoughts together as the adrenaline pumps in her veins. As she hears muffles of the crowd and Bagman, the Champion hears Trelawney’s voice echo between her ears: 

_...Whatever it is you feel an urge to do through your journey, I implore you to act on it immediately…_

Thank Merlin, a candle lights up in Moira’s mind. It’s an unusual idea inspired by a conversation she’s had recently. It’s something Moira’s never quite done before, but it’s better than allowing the dragon to dictate her fate. 

“Fuck it.” she stoically says to herself. 

As soon as the blaze ceases streaming, she runs from the rock and allows the crowd to see her for the first time in two minutes. With her wand in her hand, she points the wand at herself and waves the wand. She freezes a very specific vision in her head as she yells: 

“ _GRUIS_!” 

Within the blink of an eye, Moira painlessly transfigures into a large snowy crane. She opens her wings and instinctively flaps them. She takes off several feet from the ground and begins to fly around the dragon. 

The crowd, along with Bagman, goes positively berserk. Moira hears Bagman scream something, but elects to ignore everyone as she adjusts to her new sense... Remembering her reading on the dragon’s lethal tail and mindful of the fire, she keeps herself several feet off the ground and proceeds to provoke the dragon by flying within an eyeshot. As she quickly makes up a plan, Moira looks to confirm that she has talons rather than webbed feet, which is found within a typical crane. This Crane, however, purposefully added that extra detail before conjuring her newly-invented spell. 

Feeling audacious, Moira makes eye contact with the contact and caws at the dragon. Highly irate, the dragon begins to flap her own wings and fly at Moira. Spotting the golden egg as it glistens in the sky, Moira flies in loops around the dragons’ neck, leaving the creature completely off-balance, and dives below. 

Using her wings to angle her gliding, Moira’s feet immediately latch on to the golden egg and ascend high into the sky, away from the dragon. The crowd breaks into applause as she finally hears Bagman announces: 

“AND SHE’S DONE IT! THE WHITE-WINGED CRANE HAS SNATCHED HER EGG!” 

From a distance, she sees dragon keepers subduing the Horntail. As she lowers her altitude, she sees Professor McGonagall, Professor Trelawney, Professor Moody, and Professor Flitwick motioning her to come to them. She begins her descent. She consciously eases the flapping of her wings as she carefully tries to land. McGonagall grabs the egg from her feet. Moira lands on the ground and untransfigurates back into her human form. A weight is lifted from her body as she realizes that not only did she complete her Task, but she has survived the Hungarian Horntail! Her body begins to feel as though she has been deadlifting for several hours, but she offers smiles to her professors as she pants and catches her breath from what is the most intense cardiovascular exercise she has ever done in her life. 

Flitwick offers his own personal applause. “Bravo!” 

Moody looks impressed as his magical eye dances in its sock. “You did well out there, Crane. ” He chuckles as soon as he utters her surname. Moira can’t help but do the same. 

Trelawney lets out a large smile as she stares at the Champion in sheer wonder as she squeezes Moira... “Yes… yes… The feather does favor you indeed, Moira!” 

“Truly excellent. Simply breathtaking!” says McGonagall. Coming from McGonagall, who is both a perfectionist and an Animagus, it is not only a compliment, but it is an honorific. Moira thanks the group. 

“Are you feeling sore, Crane?” asks McGonagall as she returns the golden egg to Moira. 

“Very,” answers Moira. 

“That is normal. It will wear off within a few days. Madame Pomfrey would like to inspect you to ensure that your feet are still human. To the first aid tent, please. 

Moira leaves the enclosure, wincing at the soreness that is currently getting the best out of her. She sees Pomfrey rush over and leads her inside. The tent is divided into cubicles. She sits down on a chair as Pomfrey removes her shoes and inspects them. Moira can swear that she’s seeing Cedric’s shadow through the canvas as he appears to be sitting up. She wonders what exactly might have happened to him. 

“Your feet appear to be entirely human. Immediately report yourself to my wing if something feels inhuman. Off you go, you need to see your score! From the sound of it, you might have scored high!” says Pomfrey as she enters through the next door and asks “How does it feel now, Diggory?”

Moira grows nervous overhearing the question but knows that she needs to hear her scoring. She walks to the edge of the enclosure, where she is bombarded by Roger, Cho, and Salvia in a group hug. 

“You did it!” screams all three. “Bloody fantastic!” 

“Beautiful transfiguration, Moira!” says Cho. 

“Thanks, Cho!” replies Moira. 

“Where did you learn that spell?” asks Salvia. 

“I didn’t. I just made it up,” nonchalantly answers Moira. 

“You just… casually invented a Transfiguration spell?” asks Roger. 

“I suppose I did. How’d the others do?” inquires Moira as she shrugs. They are all taken aback by her previous statement. 

“Cedric Transfigured one of the rocks and turned it into a Labrador. The dragon did get distracted by the dog for a while… but then the dragon caught him and got upset. He got burned, but he managed to grab his egg.” explains Roger who notes the worry flaring up in Moira’s face. “We managed to congratulate him before Pomfrey seized him. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He did score high despite the burn. ” 

“Fleur charmed her dragon to sleep. She also got her egg but the dragon started snoring and let out some flame which set her robe on fire. She did manage to put it out with some water from her wand. She came out unharmed, but she was a bit slow. She did score better than Viktor.” says Cho. 

“What happened with Viktor?” asks Moira. 

“Viktor hit his dragon with an eye spell. I think he blinded it. It worked, but then the dragon crushed half of the real eggs. You weren’t supposed to damage the real eggs so they took off a lot of marks for that. Only Karkaroff gave him a high score… School bias, of course.” answers Salvia. “I think you’ve done well.” 

They look up to see the judges. “It’s marked out of ten per judge,” explains Salvia. 

Madame Maxime raises her wand in the air. A silver ribbon shoots out it and twists itself into a nine. The crowd applauds the scoring. Crouch shoots his number into the air - ten. The crowd gets more excited. 

Dumbledore puts up a ten as well. Bagman shoots up a ten. The crowd increases its hype. A reluctant Karkaroff shoots an eight. The group frowns at the score. 

“That’s rubbish!” shouts Roger. 

“Absolute fuckery. Karkaroff gave Viktor a bloody ten! Maxime also gave Fleur a ten but at least She was sensible with everyone else.” 

“How did I do?” asks Moira who is confused with the scoring.

“Cedric got forty-two points, Fleur got thirty-seven points, and Viktor got thirty-five points! You’ve got forty-seven points! You did it, babe!” screams Salvia as she makes the calculations in her head. She hugs Moira, who is astounded. 

“I … what?” says Moira as she is unable to compute the news. “I...won?” 

“You won Moira!” Cho squeals. 

“You bloody won, mate!” says Roger. 

The news finally clicks in Moira’s brain. “Sweet Merlin, I did it… I DID IT!” she exclaims. 

Moira hears the crowd chanting “WHITE-WINGED CRANE! WHITE-WINGED CRANE! WHITE-WINGED CRANE!” 

“That’s what they’re calling you now!!” explains Salvia. 

The group jumps up and down as Pomfrey screams “Crane! Bagman wants a word in the Champions’ tent!” 

“We’ll wait here for you and Cedric!” says Salvia. 

There’s a swagger to her strut and a glow in her complexion that begins to manifest as Moira renters the tent. She feels as though she is a new person now. She left the place a terrified girl mustering courage and she has returned as well… something different… something better. She does not quite have a name for it yet. 

She joins Fleur, Cedric, and Krum as they huddle together. Moira stands next to Cedric who turns his head and reveals that half of his face is covered in a thick orange paste, which is intended to heal his burns. It’s a miracle that his hair hasn’t been burnt off. Though she is taken aback by his appearance, she grins back.

The energy between the two of them is a little too calm given the fact that they’ve just survived dragon encounters. Manic chaos begins to bubble between them as they take each other in, but Bagman barges into the tent and interrupts. 

“Well done, _all_ of you!” says Bagman as he looks amongst the Champions. His eyes twinkle as he looks at Moira in particular. “Now, just a quick few words. You’ve got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half-past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth, but we’re giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you’re all holding, you will see that they open. See the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg because it will tell you what the Second Task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear?” 

The Champions, who have barely recovered, nod reluctantly. 

“Sure? Well, off you go, then!”

“Congratulations Moira! How are you feeling?” asks Rita who appears from behind Bagman. 

Moira smiles at her. “No comment.” 

An irate Rita puffs and leaves the tent. Moira now turns her attention to Cedric. The other two Champions also exit. Only Moira and Cedric remain in the tent. They try to hug, but Cedric is mindful to not get his paste in her hair. 

“White-Winged Crane, eh?” he asks. “I heard the crowd chanting that after Bagman said you caught your egg. Pomfrey told me that you Transfigured yourself into a literal crane. She said that you looked beautiful and majestic in the sky. That’s a bloody brilliant nickname.” 

“Thanks.” blushes Moira. 

He lets out a joyous chuckle. “Ah! I wish I could have seen it!” 

She joins in his chuckle… except it turns into crazed laughter. 

“If I’m going to be completely honest, I had no idea what I was doing,” says nervously Moira who begins to visibly tremble. “I was so scared when that dragon fired at me!” 

The unburnt half of Cedric’s face changes his expression. 

“Scared? I was FUCKING TERRIFIED!” cries Cedric who is quaking and shrill. “THIS WAS THE FIRST TASK?! WE COULD HAVE DIED!” 

“I CAN’T COME UP WITH ANOTHER TRICK CEDRIC THIS IS THE ONLY ONE I’VE GOT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO DO?” laments Moira. 

“I DON’T KNOW!” 

They both pace about as the adrenaline begins to wash out of their system and the horror of it all sinks in. As they continue to scream and panic, Salvia, Roger, and Cho enter the tent and see the Champions visibly panicked. The five of them freeze. An awkward silence fills up the room. 

“Mates… you both alright?” asks Roger. Cho and Salvia give him a look that communicates “Are you having a laugh, Roger?”

Moira attempts to respond but comes up with nothing. 

“We're strategizing,” says Cedric. 

Cho notices the golden eggs. “Are those hinges on the sides?” she asks. 

Moira and Cedric, still rattled up, nod in sync. 

“Can we have a look at them?” asks Salvia. Moira and Cedric hand them their eggs. 

“It’s heavy. Moira, how did you manage to carry this with your feet?” the Hufflepuff girl continues as she inspects the beautifully engraved golden egg that belongs to Moira, who simply shrugs. 

Roger and Cho admire Cedric’s egg as two people would admire a newborn child. “Have you tried opening them up yet?” wanders Roger. The Champions shake their heads. “Why not give it a go?” suggests Cho. 

The Champions tiredly shrug. The friends hand them back their eggs. On the count of three, Moira and Cedric open up the eggs. A screeching cry synchronously emits and bounces throughout the room. The sound resembles a banshee’s scream. They all cover their ears and agonize as the couple struggles to shut the egg. The group looks amongst themselves. Moira and Cedric clutch their heads and necks in misery as they anticipate trying to figure out the next clue. 

“When’s the next Task?” asks Salvia. 

“February.” groans Cedric. 

“You’ve got plenty of time!” points out Roger. 

“And you get to enjoy your reward!” adds Cho. 

Moira and Cedric give them a puzzled look. 

“We have a reward?!” asks Cedric.


	10. Chapter 10

Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory, the Hogwarts co-Champions of the Triwizard Tournament, are hailed as equal and divine figures throughout their school. The students and staff appear to have forgotten about both the awkward Goblet of Fire ceremony and the deceitfully inflammatory Daily Prophet article written by Rita Skeeter. 

As the couple enters the Great Hall for dinner following the Task, Moira is greeted with thunderous applause (and lots of table slamming) which seemed to have made up for the sterile reaction everyone had on Halloween night.

“WHITE-WINGED CRANE! WHITE-WINGED CRANE! WHITE-WINGED CRANE!” 

Cedric, whose face has returned to handsomely normal, stands next to her as it all unfolds. He notices her self-consciousness as she turns to him with a slightly guilty expression. 

“I had my moment!” he assures her as he yells over the chanting. He of course refers to being selected (first) as Hogwarts Champion. “It’s high time you had yours! You deserve it more than I do!” 

The next day, Moira finally receives word from her parents at breakfast:

_MOIRA DARLING!_

_We’re deeply sorry that we took so long to reply! Know that we’ve spoken to the Diggorys about that dastardly article and that Skeeter has been disciplined. Now, on to better things:_

_CONGRATULATIONS!_

_We had an inkling that you’d try your hand at the Triwizard Tournament! Focus not on why you and Cedric have been selected but instead focus on the honor the Goblet has bestowed onto YOU as the fourth Champion!_

_We heard about your placing first during the First Task! We’re so proud of you! What better way to give homage to the family name than by Transfiguring into an actual Crane?! We’ve seen the pictures! You look marvelous as both human and bird! No matter how you finish in the Tournament, know that you will be forever known as THE WHITE-WINGED CRANE!_

_Enjoy your break! We love you!_

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad_

As Moira cringes, she is handed a copy of the Daily Prophet by Cho, which reads: 

_THE WHITE-WHINGED CRANE_

The headline is accompanied by a moving picture of the very moment that Moira Transfigured into the snowy crane. 

“I know it’s strange to ask, but… Do you mind signing it?” begs Cho. 

Moira blinked rapidly at the question. “You want me to… sign the newspaper? …Like an autograph? ” 

“Exactly!” 

Moira reaches for her bag for quill and ink, but Cho places her own writing supplies on the table. Moira quickly signs her name on the right-hand corner of the image. This naturally inspires other Ravenclaw students to make the same request. Over the next week, this trend only increases and spreads to students of other Houses asking for autographs. She constantly finds herself promising everyone that she will get around to signing autographs as she wiggles her way to classes. 

In between dodging and pleasing fans, Moira and Cedric keep attempting to open the eggs. No matter the time of day or speed, the eggs continue to scream and intimidate the Champions. Reminding themselves that they have over two months until their next Task (and still recovering from the dragons), they agree to take a break from Task preparations.

Professor Flitwick appears to have sensed the couple’s concurrence, as he now bestows an unexpected assignment to her after Charms. 

“The Yule Ball? Is that why we had to pack dress robes and stay here over Christmas?” asks Moira as she stands in front of her professor, who stands on a stack of books to make same-level eye contact. 

“Precisely,” he confirms. 

“Is it a surprise?”

“Dumbledore will be announcing this to everyone over dinner tonight, but I would appreciate it if you would keep this a secret for the next few hours. Know that all the other Champions will be notified. Do not share this information with Mr. Diggory until he too is notified by Professor Sprout.” 

“May I ask why we’re being told ahead of time?” politely implores Moira. 

“For considerations’ sake, of course, but also to give you a head start… though from what I’ve observed over the years, you and Mr. Diggory may not need one.” 

“A head start? In what?” 

Realizing Moira’s innocent confusion, he paternally smiles. “In selecting a partner. You and the other Champions will be opening the Ball with a dance.”

Moira’s voice cracks as she speaks. “Professor, I don’t know how to dance.” 

“You needn’t worry about that. Professor Trelawney and I will host a lesson for our House. I’m sure you’ll find that learning to dance is a lot easier than facing a dragon.” he assures her. 

The Yule Ball, Moira realizes, is the “reward” that Cho must have been referring to. As soon as Dumbledore announces The Yule Ball during dinner-time, date-fever breaks out throughout the student body. Moira and Cedric, ever the fortunate couple, smile and shrug at each other while Roger and Salvia begin to sweat arrows. 

Exactly a week later, Flitwick upholds his promise and co-hosts a (mandatory) dance lesson with the Ravenclaw students (fourth-years and older) with Professor Trelawney. To ensure that everyone shows up, classes have been canceled for all older Hogwarts students, as the other Houses are also receiving lessons. Ravenclaw is assembled in a large empty classroom that has been cleaned out for this occasion. 

“Miss Crane, as you will have to open the Ball, I will have to pick on you and call you up here.” requests Flitwick

Moira gets up and stands in the middle of the empty space. She turns to the professors. 

“You will need a partner for this lesson to work,” adds Trelawney. 

Her mind draws an immediate blank. It is in moments like these that Moira relieves the pangs she felt when Cedric was sorted in Hufflepuff. He would be her default option as her boyfriend and one of the few males she is comfortable making physical contact with. She looks amongst the males on the other side of the room and spots Roger, who is already walking toward her. Feeling physically lighter, she mouths a “thank you” at him. He shoots her an affectionate smile and shrugs. 

Roger and Moira hold their left hands up in the air. She carefully places her hand on his back while he cautiously hovers his hand over her waist. The music starts and they awkwardly coordinate their feet within a square as Flitwick counts and paces their dancing. After about two minutes of presentational misery, the rest of the Ravenclaws pair up and join them.

“Just pretend I’m your tall English pretty-boy, alright?” suggests Roger, which earns a laugh from Moira for both humor and for accurately summing up Cedric’s surface-level description. 

this is the most physical contact they’ve shared with each other. The friends are used to shaking hands, high-fiving, and hugging, but nothing ever beyond that. Their relationship started off as friends sorted into the same House. As they got to know each other better and join the Quidditch team, they became fraternal comrades. 

“Skeeter would have a riot if she saw us right now.” half-jokes Moira. 

“She would… but she did say nice things about you,” notes Roger. 

“Right, but only because my parents probably threatened her.” 

“Or, because you were bloody brilliant out there with the dragon,” he says with dazzle in his eyes. “Moira, really think you have a shot at winning this!” 

She offers a modest shrug. “You’re saying that because we’re mates.” 

“Yeah, but also because you annihilated everyone else!” 

“Fair enough.” 

They look around the room as the music keeps going. Many people are awkwardly struggling with keeping up with the rhythm. Moira and Roger are somewhat improving. 

“Has Cedric asked you to the ball yet?” curiously asks Roger. 

“No.” 

“Ah. Are you going to ask him?”

“No? I just assumed we were going since we’re together… Are we supposed to ask each other? Should I? Or should I wait? What do you think?…. Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t seen Cedric all day.” rambles Moira whose stress levels have just increased on the spot. She last saw her boyfriend at dinner. He was unusually quiet and mentally preoccupied. When she tried to get him to talk about it, he blamed it on schoolwork. Moira was unable to find him at breakfast or lunch… which is a first. 

“Sal and I last saw him at Astronomy last night. He looked rather preoccupied.”

“With what?” 

“He wouldn’t say,” says Roger, who senses Moira’s stiffness that only increases which each step they take. “Just… breathe, alright? I’m pretty sure the dance is supposed to be fluid.” 

Moira takes a deep breath and gives him a small smile. They look down at their feet, which appear to still obey the square rule.

“So who should I pretend to be? Cho?” playfully wanders Moira. 

“Fleur.” 

Her eyes widen and her eyebrows rise in astonishment. “Whoa… Roger-” 

“She asked me this morning. It was hard to say no! There’s just something about her…” he explains as his beguiled expression surfaces. Moira contemplates telling Roger about Fleur’s veela heritage but decides to bite her tongue. She shifts her next line in her head before letting it slip out of her tongue. 

“What about Cho?” asks Moira who notices Roger’s expression become chagrin. 

“I tried asking her last night, but she said she already had a date.” 

They discreetly look across the room and see Cho practicing with a blonde seventh-year boy. She politely chuckles in what appears to be a lively chit-chat. 

“Whom? That guy over there?” 

“No… It’s…” Roger sighs. Promise me you won’t laugh.” 

“Am I going to?” 

“Just promise me, you won’t.” 

“I’ll try my best.” 

Roger takes a dramatic pause and shifts his eyes about as they continue to dance. He leans into her ear. “Harry Potter,” he reveals in a hushed tone. 

Moira feels a cackle on the verge of slipping out her mouth. She presses her lips into a hard line which promptly breaks into a smile. As the pair continue to waltz, she places her forehead on his shoulder as he feels her fight off laughter. She takes a sharp inhale as she lifts her head up and looks back at him. 

“I’m sorry…” she starts as she tries to maintain a neutral expression. “She’s going with a fourth-year? And with Potter? I was not expecting that. I’m sorry, mate. At least you get to open the ball with a Champion…. And you like Fleur as well, don’t you?”

Roger nods. “I do… but… it’s just not the same, you know?” 

After the dance lessons cease, the students are excused to dinner. The Great Hall is half-empty, as the younger students appeared to have eaten earlier. Salvia pulls Moira into the very end of the Hufflepuff table and is bubbling with excitement. 

“I GOT ASKED!” announces Salvia. They squeal in excitement. 

“By whom?” asks Moira. 

“Aleksandr!”

“Who’s that?” 

“Durmstrang boy. I only just met him! I was minding my business in the library when he walked up to me and asked! How mad is that?! ALSO! Cedric wanted me to pass on a message!” 

Moira furrows her eyebrows. 

Salvia continues “He wanted me to tell you to meet him on the seventh floor in about an hour. And before you ask, he had dinner before you came. He’s been acting strange since Astronomy last night.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

Respecting the message an hour later, Moira climbs the staircase from Ravenclaw Tower to the seventh floor, where she sees a weary-looking Cedric. 

“Cedric! I haven’t seen you all day! Are you alright?” she asks with a concerned tone. 

“Of course! I didn’t mean to avoid you! I’ve been a bit ne…” he answers. “I… er…. I….” He anxiously laughs as he avoids making eye contact with Moira. After a few seconds, he finally pulls himself together to look at his girlfriend. “I… I was hoping that we could practice dancing… for the ball…The Yule Ball… That is, if you’ll go with me…. Ah! Allow me to ask that again, that was horrible.” 

Moira laughs at Cedric’s babble as he shakes off his nervousness. He offers her a more confident expression and tone. 

“Moira Crane?” 

“Yes, Cedric Diggory?” 

“Would you bestow me the honor of taking you to The Yule Ball?” 

“Yes! But only if you would bestow me the same honor.” 

“Of course!” 

Cedric, whose face has pinked from his speeches, finally breathes again. Moira gives him a light and sweet peck on the lips. 

“You didn’t have to ask,” says Moira. 

“It’s the courteous thing to do!” insists Cedric. “Shall we practice? I must warn you I’m still learning and Salvia was kind enough to be my practice partner earlier.” 

The couple opens the door that belonged to the room they practiced in for their First Task… except the room is now grander and sleeker. They both swear that they can hear a tune in the background. 

Placing themselves in a waltz position, Moira relaxingly places her hands on Cedric’s back while he intimately touches her waist. As they interlock hands, they lovingly look at one another. Cedric takes the first step and begins to lead them through a routine. It’s an imperfect routine full of nervous giggles, awkward missteps, and genuine apologies, but they hold each other accountable to perfect their dancing skills every evening before The Yule Ball.


	11. Chapter 11

December 25th, 1994. The fresh scent of teenage anxiety fills the Hogwarts castle as everyone (fourth-years and older) prepares for The Yule Ball. Moira and Cedric, for the sake of being whimsically romantic (and nervous), agreed the night before to not encounter one another until 7:45 (fifteen minutes before the Ball begins. This morning, Moira attempted to touch her suitcase containing the package that has her dress robes, but she sees for the first time that there is a timer on it for 18 30 (or 6:30pm). 

After spending a quiet day with Salvia and Cho, Moira hurries back to her around 5pm to quickly shower, re-wash her face, re-brush her teeth, floss, shave, and moisturize. This takes about an hour and thirty minutes. At exactly 6:30pm, Moira opens up her suitcase and finds the package that her mother prepared four months earlier. She tries to untie it but the package levitates and unties itself. An enchanted group of combs, pins, and hair ties give Moira a ballerina’s bun with three cornrows in the front (the sides and back of her hair are unbraided). Floating makeup tools give Moira shimmering silver eyeshadow, pink lipstick, light eyeliner, a small amount of blush, slight contouring, and heavy mascara. The process is unusually fast (taking about an hour compared to the two or three hours it would take by human hands), and is obviously part of her mother’s enchantment. 

A long, embroidered, backless, sleeveless, and slightly sheer white mermaid dress with a deep v-neck cut and spaghetti straps picks itself up and unzips itself. Moira dips her legs into the dress which fits itself onto her as she slips her arms into the sleeves. The dress zips itself up. A floor-length, embroidered, sheer white cape flies lands itself on her shoulders, and hooks itself. A pair of three-inch silver strappy heels gallop out of the package, prompting Moira to raise her foot to allow them to fit onto her. A pair of circular stud earrings latch onto her ears and a small sapphire ring hops onto her left ring finger. A perfume bottle hovers around her as it lathers her with its scent. 

Once the process is completely over, Moira admires herself in one of the dormitory mirrors. Her breath is nearly taken away at her reflection. She spins around to admire her cape. She shifts about as she notices the embroidery reflecting light onto the walls around her. She feels absolutely divine and excited to make her appearance downstairs. 

Suddenly, a small card flutters into Moira’s hands: 

_It was worth the wait, wasn’t it? Have an extraordinary night! Stay safe!_

_\- Mum_

_On_ ce Moira finally makes it to the extremely packed Entrance Hall, she spots Cedric conversing with Fleur and Roger. Taking a deep breath and smiling radiantly, she begins her walk towards the trio. A series of flashing reflecting lights attracts Cedric’s attention, who is in awe once he discovers the source: Moira, who shyly smiles at her boyfriend and friends. Cedric’s jaw drops as he breaks into a smile. 

“Bloody hell.” makes out Cedric, who wears a formal tuxedo, an accompanying black robe. His hair is combed slightly neater than usual. “You… look… amazing. You always do but… wow…” 

Moira lets out a little laugh. “And you’re striking yourself.” 

Fleur, who wears a long silver-grey satin dress with her hair nearly up with festive pins, is unable to stop staring at Moira’s dress. “Cedric, could we switch dates?” she half-jokingly asks. 

Roger, who wears a white-tie tuxedo with a black robe, chuckles nervously from the corner at Fleur’s words. “Please, don’t.” he pleads in a hypnotized tone as he stares at the French witch. 

“Where did you get the dress?” Fleur continues. 

A beaming Moira shrugs as Cedric smirks in pride. 

“My mum got it for me,” says Moira with a smile.

“Champions over here, please!” calls Professor McGonagall. 

McGonagall, who is dressed in a mighty red tartan dress, instructs the Champions and their partners to wait on the side of the doors while everyone goes inside. The Champions are to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students have sat down. 

“Hello, Cedric! Moira! Fleur! Fleur’s date!” exclaims an unfamiliar voice. The quartet turns around. It’s Viktor Krum, who seems to be smiling for the first time since his arrival at Hogwarts. Standing next to him is Hermione, whom Moira and Cedric recognize from the Quidditch World Cup travel group. Hermione, in Moira’s observation, is nearly unrecognizable without her books and her bushy hair, which is neatly twisted into a sophisticated bun. 

“This is Hermione Granger… my date,” says Viktor. 

“Hi everyone!” says Hermione with a smile on her face. Moira is unable to shake off the obvious fact that Hermione looks… rather young next to Viktor. She wonders if anyone else is thinking it, but does not want to ruin the occasion with her snark. 

“Who wants to lead the line?” asks Viktor. The sextet looks amongst each other as everyone feels reluctant to lead. 

“We can go… We are the hosting school Champions… And well… ” suggests Cedric as he is unable to keep his eyes off of his date/co-Champion. Fleur nods… Roger imitates Fleur. Viktor appears genuinely happy as he agrees with Cedric. 

Once everyone else is settled in the Hall, McGonagall tells the Champions to get in line, which they quickly do. Fleur and Roger have to stand a few inches away from Moira to avoid stepping on her cape. Viktor and Hermione stand right behind them. The Hogwarts co-Champions/dates hold hands. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Ready,” she answers. 

As the doors reopen, Moira and Cedric begin the Champions procession down the Hall. They are blown away by the drastic makeover that has occurred. The walls are covered in silver frost with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables are now replaced with smaller lantern-lit tables that sit about a dozen people. The Hall feels suddenly a lot bigger than usual… and feels too dreamy to articulate. Ball attendees in the Great Hall applaud as the procession begins. The couple, still holding hands, smile and wave in various directions as everyone look upon them as though they were personified cosmos. Various “oohs” and “ahhs” echo through the room. 

“They’re referring to you,” whispers Cedric. 

Moira, who is enjoying the attention, feigns humility. “I’m sure they’re talking about all of us. We all look beautiful tonight.”

“Yes, but to call you ‘beautiful’ would be an understatement.” 

As they make it through the crowd, the Champions (plus Roger and Hermione) approach a large empty space near an orchestra, led by Professor Flitwick. The sextet spread themselves into their respective pairs as Moira repeatedly reminds herself that she is not dreaming. This is all very real and very much unfolding before her very eyes. 

Moira and Cedric get into waltz-position: hands up, waist wrapped, and back caressed. As the music starts, they begin to sweep about in a contained square. After finishing the square, they switch hands and repeat the actions. Before going back to their original hand position, Cedric holds Moira’s waist as he “lifts her” (assisted with a steady hop she provides) while she places her hands on his shoulders. They revert back to their first position and spin and sweep about the ballroom as they repeat the choreography. Once various professors and students flood the dance floor, the couple relaxes their choreography. 

“You know I’m not one to stir the pot….” murmurs Cedric. 

“But?” insists Moira. 

“I’m pretty sure Hermione’s fourteen… fifteen at the oldest. Isn’t Viktor eighteen?” he asks.

She nods. Cedric physically cringes. “He couldn’t find someone slightly older?” 

Moira shrugs. “You took the words out of my mouth.”

As the floor is now completely crowded, the couple closes the formal physical gap between them and exchange doting expressions that they previously hid as Champions. As they look at each other, they sense that something feels… different…and very… Official with a capital O. 

Neither of them looks like the children they were when they met, nor do they feel like children. Moira and Cedric sense that there is simply something about their partner that feels suddenly magnetically enthralling. The lens couple examines each other from is no longer a child’s gaze, but an adult’s. Both of their loving concerns are no longer about where they will sit this very Hall tomorrow morning, but of what they ought to on Yule mornings five years… or even ten years from now. Neither of them, of course, shares this particular train of thought with the other. 

A heavier knot stirs within them as Moira and Cedric look into each other’s eyes. They’re so tempted to begin locking their lips in front of ever but they are too aware of the people surrounding them. 

“Have I mention that you look absolutely dashing this evening? ” asks Moira in an extremely flirtatious tone. 

“Yes, but I’ll take the compliment again,” grins Cedric. 

“I have to admit, you always look dashing but there’s something about you this evening that just feels… different.” 

“Oh?” 

“In a good way. An extremely positive way…. You just feel… extremely alluring right now.” explains Moira. 

“I know exactly what you mean. You seem different too..” observes Cedric as he spins her around. 

“I do?” she asks as she returns to waltz position. 

“Yeah. Since the Task, you’ve started emitting this glow that shines brightly tonight but -” he struggles to find the words. 

“Are you sure it’s not the dress?” 

“No. You’re just extremely enticing right now… I guess I just feel even more drawn to you than ever.” he says with a combined bashful and provocative tone. 

Once the song is over, Moira and Cedric get off the dance floor and sit at one of the tables. They are quickly joined at the table by Salvia, who introduces her friends to her date, Aleksandr, who is star-stricken by the Champions. 

“BABES! YOU LOOKED AMAZING UP THERE! You too, Cedric.” exclaims Salvia who is adorned in a flowing spaghetti-strap bright yellow dress with her hair styled in a glamorous afro. Cedric flashes Salvia a cheeky smile.

“But seriously, you both look like proper victors up there. Don’t you think so, Aleksandr?” 

Aleksandr (dressed in an outfit similar to Viktor’s), still geeking over meeting Moira and Cedric, nods. “You both looked magnificent.” Salvia, who is obviously hyper from various sweet treats, notices something in the corner of her eyes. “Cho! Cho! CHO!” she yells but gives up and turns her attention back to the table. “Did Roger tell you that Cho was going with Harry Potter?” 

Everyone nods at the table. Salvia continues to speak in her sugar rush tone. 

“They are both adorable. It’s weird, you know since he looks like a child and all, but it somehow works, you know? I think they’re getting on well. And I think Roger’s cracking on with Fleur since they disappeared… so it worked itself out…. Anyways… I don’t want to bother you two love-birds too much… Enjoy the rest of your night! Cedric! Let’s convert some vinegar later in the common room after midnight, yeah? Right, shall we, Aleksandr?” 

Aleksandr escorts a bubbling Salvia away as Moira and Cedric chuckle at Aleksandr escorts back to the dance floor. 

“Want to get some fresh air?” proposes Moira with a wink. Without answering, Cedric leads her into the Entrance Hall and within seconds, the Entrance Courtyard, where they hide under a large tree a few feet away from the entrance. 

Illuminated by the moonlight, Moira and Cedric begin to fervently kiss and caress one another as they are careful to not damage her dress and cape. They find each other’s lips and necks sweetly addictive as they both are unable to restrain themselves as they engage in the sultry action above their shoulders. Though they try their best to remain quiet, heavy breathing flows from each of them as they indulge in their ecstasy. What feels like minutes feels like eternity… 

Until an irate voice clears her throat. Moira and Cedric cease their make-out session to make out the source of the sound. 

“Moira? Cedric? Is that you?” 

Staying absolutely still, they do not respond. Professor Trelawney emerges from the darkness in a long navy-blue velvet dress. She shakes her head and sighs heavily. 

“You both will have time to do this later, but right now, you must focus on preserving your might! You will both need it for what lies ahead! Your very lives depend on not being lackadaisical! Back inside the castle, before I start withdrawing points!” scolds Trelawney as she shoos them away into the Entrance Hall. Though slightly embarrassed to have been caught, they softly laugh off the incident. Right before re-entering the Great Hall, they check each other for obvious signs of their outdoor encounter, to which there is no evidence (for now). 

Back on the dance-floor, the couple opts for a slow-dance. Their hand positions are extremely informal, as Moira rests both her hands on his shoulders while Cedric places both his hands around her waist. They sway about the space, but it’s not as fancy as their earlier choreography. 

Trelawney’s words simmer inside Moira’s mind. She runs it over and over again but she is unable to pinpoint the reason as to why she feels the need to do so. 

“Got something on your mind?” Cedric asks with a slight pink tint to his lips. 

“Something Trelawney said. It just… feels very familiar… and I don’t know why.” muses Moira. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon. You’re good at figuring out whatever she Sees. ’” 

“You refer to my wit, which we both know does not apply in the field of Divination. It’s simply a… knowing.” 

“Exactly! Which you do have!”

“But I can’t See.” 

The couple used to pursue Divination as an elective from their third to their fifth year. Trelawney was captivated by the duo from day one and even accidentally revealed to the class that they were barely dating during a reading. Despite his best efforts and keen interest, Cedric was always unable to predict or sense omens and upcoming events. He was the type of student that had to rely on his book more than anything else, and thus could only advance so far in Trelawney’s classes. For Moira, Divination was a subject that she surprisingly advanced in and slowly enjoyed over time. Her ability to interpret and sense predictions amongst the tea leaves, fires, palms, and crystal balls was something that came to her naturally… Yet all of this has not been serving her throughout the Tournament so far. 

Cedric shrugs. “Well, whatever it is… I don’t have it, but that’s perfectly fine because I believe I’ve found something better.” 

“Like what?” 

“Your heart.”

Moira breaks out into a girlish smile as she blushes. “My heart is yours for the taking.” 

“As is mine,” confirms Cedric.

Moira shakes off her professor’s mysterious ways and continues to bask in the picture perfect present moment with Cedric… not as co-Champions, but as mere teenage lovers. 

As Moira and Cedric bid each other good night after the Ball concludes at midnight, they both silently sense that they are no longer quite the same couple they were when the night began. 


	12. Chapter 12

Immediately after the new year, Moira and Cedric return back to the library where they research dragon eggs, golden eggs, and banshee screams. Their table begins to fill up crumbled up parchments that are a result of the Champions’ brainstorming, becoming confused, and then realizing that they’ve hit a wall. They continuously stare at their eggs, which they now take with them everywhere as they read endless amounts of books. It has been over a month since they last opened them and suffered through their wailing. After hours of deliberating, the couple decides to take a break and head to dinner in the Great Hall. 

“You know… I haven’t had a bath in a while,” says Cedric as he stirs and drinks his hot chocolate. 

“Don’t you have the Prefects’ bathroom for that?” asks Moira in between cutting up and eating her pork chop. 

“I do… but I haven’t used it in a while… and the winter’s the best time to take a bath… It’s nice and warm… good to just relax… What do you reckon? Wanna… take a bath tonight?” he proposes. 

“Like a bath-bath?” she wonders. 

“Er… We can go in our swimsuits and just… think of bubbles… and other things…” 

She smirks. “One condition: we take our eggs with us. I don’t want anyone fiddling with them and going deaf.” 

“Deal. Meet me after curfew. Password’s ‘pine fresh’.” he says in a lowered tone. 

A few minutes before curfew is enforced, a robe-wearing Moira quietly sneaks out of the dormitories and descends down the staircase to the Common Room. She pulls out her wand and says “ _Cave Inimicum_ ,” before entering through the Common Room and exits Ravenclaw Tower. She descends the staircase of the northern towers all the way down to the ground floor. She reluctantly crosses the suspension bridge (which most students avoid despite the shortcut it provides), crosses the Quad Courtyard, and takes the Grand Stair to walk all the way up to the fifth floor, where she meets the stature Boris the Bewildered. 

“Pine fresh,” She addresses the stature. 

The fourth door to the left of the statue opens. Moira enters and is awestruck by the sight. The Prefects’ bathroom is purely white marble and is softly lit by a candle-filled chandelier. In the middle of the room is the bath, which resembles more of an empty, rectangular white-marble, semi-shallow swimming pool. 

“I would have snuck you in last year, but I didn’t want to get you in trouble,” says Cedric as he enters the Bathroom. He turns a few faucets to let the tub fill with water and bubbles. 

“And what made you change your mind?” asks Moira. 

He winks at her. “Wanted to make up for getting caught at the Ball.” 

Feeling her cheeks warm-up, she chuckles and unties her robe, revealing a one-piece blue and bronze swimsuit (issued by Ravenclaw). Cedric also removes his robe. He wears a pair of dark-colored swimming trunks with a yellow sleeveless swim shirt (issued by Hufflepuff). They fold their robes (and place their eggs down) before descending down the stairs that lead into the water. 

The warmth of the water and the lavender scent intoxicates the couple as they settle into the pool. It inspires Moira to sweetly kiss Cedric on the lips as he wraps his arms around her waist. As they indulge in each other’s lips, necks, and collarbones, they begin to feel increasingly physically audacious and frisky with one another. Heavy pants echo through the room. As Moira cusps Cedric’s face and runs her fingers through his hair, her elbow knocks over one of the eggs, which drops into the water, creating a large splash. She pulls from the kiss. 

“Wait… wait,” she says with a concerned tone. She looks behind them and finds that one of the eggs is missing. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” he asks. 

“The egg… it’s in the water,” she answers with a panic-stricken tone. 

They clear some bubbles around them as they look for the golden glow that lies beneath. Cedric spots the egg in the water. “Found it!” he says. He goes into the water and grabs the egg. When he emerges, a candle lights up in his head. 

“I’ve got an idea! Let’s open it again.” suggests a half soapy Cedric. “But this time… in the water. I know it’s weird but…. If I’m wrong… At least we got another egg.” 

Moira enthusiastically nods. “I don’t think it’s weird. It’s different, and it’s worth a try. You want to -” 

“Sure.” Cedric opens up the egg. Instead of screaming, a melody plays through the water. Unable to make out the song, Moira holds her breath as submerges her head in the water. Cedric follows suit. 

_…An hour-long you’ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour, the prospect’s black,_

_Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back._

Once the song ends, they raise their back up to catch their breath. They share a serendipitous look. 

“It’s no longer screaming,” observes Cedric as he picks up the egg. 

“… Which means that we’re on the right track! You’re a bloody genius, Cedric! Let’s try that again!” Moira giddily geeks out as she puts the other egg in the water. She opens it up. They immediately go back under the water and listen to the song in full. 

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you’re searching ponder this;_

_We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,_

_An hour-long you’ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour, the prospect’s black,_

_Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back._

They bring their heads back to the surface and ponder over the song. Moira’s mind is aflame with ideas. “You have to admit that this one is definitely a riddle!” 

“I do. What are you thinking?” asks Cedric as Moira gently waddles in the water to think. Cedric stays in his place and watches her. 

“Since we could only hear them in the water, that means we’re going into the lake for the Task.” she guesses with rapid-fire speed. “But who’s ‘we’?” 

She plays the song on loop in her head as Cedric looks around the room and spots a portrait of a mermaid. 

“Merpeople?” he suggests. 

“Are there merpeople in the lake?” she skeptically asks. 

“The lake can have a giant squid, why not merpeople? And if there’s a portrait, surely they’re not too far away.” 

Moira nods as she continues to apply six years of Ravenclaw riddle skills. “Right… so we know there’s water involved, there might be merpeople, something’s missing, and there was something about an hour.” 

“ ‘Taken what we’ll sorely miss’…. ‘An hour you’ll have to look’,” recalls Cedric. “So we’re searching for something in the water.”

“And it’s personal, so you and I are going to be looking for very different things… so we are very much on our own in that regard,” she adds. “And if we have an hour to look for it…that means we’ll need air…”

Another candle lights up in Cedric’s head. “Ah! Do you remember that Charm Flitwick taught us a while back? That weird one with the… One moment. _Accio_ wand!” 

Cedric’s wand flies into his hand and he points it at himself. He pauses and combs through his thoughts. Once he appears to have found what he searched for in his mind. He waves his wand and says “ _Respiro_!” 

A bubble forms around Cedric’s head, which from Moira’s perspective distorts his face, he goes underneath the water. Moira summons her wand and casts the same spell. A flexible but unbreakable bubble inflates around Moira’s head like a balloon. She goes underneath the water and finds that she can see everything in the water perfectly. She reminds herself that she needn’t hold her breath. 

“Can you hear me?” asks Cedric, whose face now looks like a distorted fish. 

“Yes! Perfectly, actually!” answers a surprised Moira. 

“What do you reckon?” 

“It’s perfect! How in the world did I forget about this Charm?” 

“It was a while back, and I think we were working on the First Task!” 

“Right. Shall we go back up?”

He nods. They rise back to the surface and the bubble immediately vanishes as their noses are above the water. 

“Merlin’s beard, Cedric! You just gave us a month of pure serenity! You’re brilliant! Bloody brilliant!” exclaims Moira as she hugs him and playfully pecks him on the cheek and lips several times. 

“Now that we’ve figured that out… Let’s just… stay like this,” concludes Moira as she slides back next to him and finally releases the tension in her body. “Or… we could continue where we left off…” 

He rascally grins. “We certainly could.” 


	13. Chapter 13

Valentine’s Day weekend is the busiest time of year in the quaint magical village of Hogsmeade as they are flooded with various pairings of teenaged lovebirds from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Amongst them are Moira and Cedric, who journey on foot to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, the ultimate local destination for young lovers. The couple has woken up early to ensure they get the perfect seats before other students flood the space. This is their fourth Valentine’s Day together as romantic partners and sixth Valentine’s Day as best friends. 

“What are we thinking of getting this time?” asks Moira as they spot the pink shop. 

“We could get those rock cakes we got last year.” Cedric thinks out loud.

“Oooh! Could we get those chocolate and pumpkin ones?” 

“Plain chocolate or chocolate peppermint?” 

Just before they can enter the shop, Bryn Apparates in front of the entrance. Cedric and Moira are startled and the latter becomes instantly irate. 

“Moira! There you are!” exclaims Bryn. 

“Bryn?!” shouts Moira. 

“Sorry-” The elder Crane says as he brings the couple aside and frees up the shop door. 

“-What are you doing here?!” she asks. 

“I got your letter,” explains Bryn.

“Oh, and it’s only now you’re answering?” retorts Moira. 

The ages of the siblings instantly revert to two primary students arguing. “I was busy!” says a defensive Bryn. 

“With what?” 

“You know I can’t talk about it.”

“What are you doing here?” she repeats. 

“I need to talk to you. Both of you actually. Hi Cedric.” says Bryn. 

“Hi,” says Cedric, who has been watching the siblings bicker. From past experience, he finds that it’s best to keep his eyes to himself anytime two (or more) Cranes become petty with one another. 

“Can it not wait? It’s Valentine’s Day,” says Moira. 

Bryn raises an eyebrow. “And?” 

She gestures at their surroundings. “I’m obviously preoccupied.” 

Remembering her age, Bryn takes a deep sigh. “No. This is my one free day, and it’s the one day I know that I’ll find you both in the village without your little friends. And if I’m going, to be honest, Madam Puddifoot’s isn’t the ideal place to have this conversation. How about I take you both to _Three Broomsticks_?” 

Bryn is given a cold teenage silence. “I’ll pay for your Butterbeers,” he offers with a painful smile. 

Moira and Cedric look at each other. He shrugs and offers an ambivalent expression. She grits her teeth and admits defeat. “Fine, but you’re paying for our food as well.” 

A few minutes later, Cedric and the Crane siblings sit at the very back of the Three Broomsticks, a popular and permanently crowded pub in Hogsmeade for locals and students alike. It’s a great place to socialize, but not necessarily the most romantic location for a date. The couple feels as though they are being chaperoned by Bryn, which exactly happened during their first romantic Valentine’s Day together. 

Back in 1992, Moira and Cedric (in their third year) made the mistake of sitting at the window seat at Madam Puddifoot’s. As the windows did not yet fog, everyone was able to see them, including Bryn (then in his seventh year). Bryn, who was with his mates, decided that it would be an excellent idea to stop by for tea. The seventh-year friend group sat directly behind the young couple. Bryn sat in a way where he and Cedric were able to make eye contact the entire time, which turned Cedric into a nervous wreck. Moira was not pleased with her brother’s actions and made sure he knew later at Ravenclaw Tower. Needless to say, it was both hilarious and adorably awkward, but only in retrospect. 

At the moment, the teenagers are being pacified with a round of Butterbeers as Bryn leans closer and speaks in a lower but audible tone. 

“So... Moira… I want to say that I’m sorry I ruined your plans. I do promise you that this is important and it will pique your interest.” begins Bryn. 

“How so?” skeptically asks Moira in between sips. 

“I’m here because I wanted to go in-depth about what you said in the letter.” answers her brother. 

“Which part? It’s been a while.” 

“The Goblet of Fire. Remember that?” 

Moira and Cedric synchronously sigh. It’s nearly four months since they were both selected by the Goblet of Fire to represent Hogwarts at the Triwizard Tournament and almost three months since they’ve successfully squashed any disputes about their legitimacy as equal competitors and manage to quell their own anxieties about that night… especially for Moira. 

“We remember,” says Cedric. 

“For my line of work, this sort of thing sparks… intrigue. For both professional but mostly personal reasons, I’d like to understand why the Goblet of Fire selected four Champions instead of three,” explains Bryn. 

“We’ve all just got over that. Do you really want to venture into this?” asks an antsy Cedric as he notices Moira in slight distress. 

“Yes! I’d tell you why, but again… Unspeakable work.” Bryn pauses. “All you need to know is that I find it interesting that you two were selected.” 

“You could call it coincidence,” suggests Moira who vividly recalls the night all too well. 

Bryn raises another eyebrow at his sister. “You and another student would be a coincidence. Cedric and another student would be a coincidence. Two other students would be a coincidence… but you two? Out of all the students who have submitted their names?” 

“There were only four names, so the odds of both of us being selected as the co-Champions were already high, to begin with,” says Moira. 

“Except that no one, let alone either of you, expected two names for Hogwarts.” retorts Bryn. 

“No, but we don’t have an explanation for it,” says Cedric in his most cordial tone. 

“I know,” assures Bryn. 

“So what exactly would you like from us?” asks Moira. 

“I just want to know what happened,” answers Bryn.

“I already told you what happened. We submitted our names, He got selected and then I got selected, and then the other school Heads got mad and accused us of cheating. That’s it. That was the night in summary.” says Moira. 

“I know… but I’d like to know about everything before that ceremony.” nonchalantly states Bryn who now sips his Butterbeer and carefully places it down on the table. “Don’t worry, everything you both tell me stays between the three of us.” He orders another round of Butterbeers.

“Fair enough.” reluctantly says Moira. “What would you like to know?”

“When did you put your names into the Goblet of Fire?” inquires Bryn with an investigative tone. “And use hushed tones please.”

“A couple of hours after it was brought in,” answers Cedric. Bryn pulls out a quill and a notepad and begins to take notes. The couple becomes somewhat uneasy at the sight as it reminds them of Skeeter’s quill.

“Don’t worry, this is just so that I can remember everything,” reassures Bryn in a soothing tone. “Do you happen to remember the time?” 

“Dinner ended just before seven so I think we were there around nine?” says Moira. “It was a while back...” 

“That’s alright.” Bryn continues to jot down his notes. “Based on your answers, I’m understanding that you submitted your names within the same window of time?” 

“We did it at the same time,” says Moira without hesitation. Bryn stops jotting. “Define ‘same time’.” 

“Cedric and I submitted our names into the Goblet of Fire at the same time.” continues Moira. “We crossed the age line together, threw our parchments in, and then left.” As his sister speaks, the Unspeakable continues to write with his quill. He briefly thinks and draws a question mark on his notepad. 

“Hmmm… do you mind intricately breaking this down?” asks Bryn. 

“After dinner, Moira and I agreed to meet up in the Great Hall two hours after dinner. We met, walked over, crossed the age line, submitted our names, and left the Hall together. I walked her back to the Tower before I went back to my dormitory.” explains Cedric. 

“Think back on that night and day. Did you two perform any new spell, spill a potion, or do anything unusual before submitting your name in the Goblet? Hell, did you do anything before that day?” 

Moira and Cedric look at each other and try to non-verbally jog each other’s memory. 

“We agreed to do it together…” Cedric says hesitatingly as Moira nods. “We wanted the other person to submit their name but it was clear that it was only going to happen if we did it together.” 

Cedric reaches for Moira's hand. They immediately interlock hands and silently comfort each other. Unbeknownst to them, Bryn notices the gesture and he takes note of it in his pad.

“When did you make that agreement?” continues Bryn. 

“September…” replies Cedric.

“Who said what?” asks the Unspeakable once again. 

“I said that Moira should submit her name. She said that I should submit my name. I said that I’d only do it if she did.” explains Cedric.

“I said that we could do it together,” adds Moira. 

“Which is why you crossed the age line together?” questions Bryn. 

“I said that back in September, but I also did say we should cross the line together.” she clarifies. 

“I thought it was a good idea.” supports Cedric. 

Bryn, at this point, is just scribbling in his notepad. “So there was an agreement?” 

The couple nods. Bryn looks at them skeptically. “Did you do anything right before crossing the age line? I’m not accusing you of bewitching anything because you both wouldn’t be advanced enough to do it, but was there anything that happened before you crossed? I don’t mean to be nosey, but this could be important.” 

“...We made a promise,” says Moira. 

“A pinky promise,” adds Cedric with a slight smile. 

“What was the promise?” urges Bryn. 

“That there’d be no hard feelings if one of us was picked. That we’d be fine with whatever happens,” answers Moria who is beginning to become tired of the questioning. 

“‘Any and all outcomes'. That’s what we said,” adds Cedric again.

“Awwww. You remembered,” coos Moira. 

“Of course I did.” coos back Cedric. The teenagers shoot heart eyes at one another and begin to forget that her brother is sitting with them. In their minds, it is the last sense of calm that they remember having before participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Bryn clears his throat and brings their attention back to him. “I promise you both that I’m almost done…. So who threw in their parchment first?” 

“We did it at the same time,” answers Moira. Bryn mouths her response as he writes it down. “Right. One last thing: what do your professors think happened?” 

“No one truly knows.” continues Moira. “Moody had a theory but -” 

“-If he did, you need to tell me.” insists Brynn. 

“If I remember properly, he guessed that we were both worthy. That the Goblet couldn’t choose,” she answers. “There was something about us being naturally enchanting but that was it.”

“Yeah, Dumbledore shrugged it off and said that we were still competing. That it was just a guess,” says Cedric. “Are you going to talk to them?” 

Bryn appears to both write and sketch. He then closes his notepad and gives off a chuckle of superiority. “They weren’t there when it happened. You two were.” 

“So what are you going to do with the information?” asks Moira. 

“What I usually do…” starts Bryn.

“...But can’t talk about it?” finishes Moira. 

“Exactly,” Brynn drinks his Butterbeer and goes into deep thought. His expression eerily reminds Cedric of Moira’s face whenever she is in deep concentration. “I have to admit that it’s an interesting case….”

“How?” pushes Moira who speaks with an element of anxiety. “What are you deducing?”

“I don’t want to say anything that I might be wrong about. Let me handle the thinking on this one. I need you to just focus on winning the Tournament.” advises Bryn. “Fantastic Transfiguration by the way.” 

“Thanks!” says Moira with a prideful smirk. The trio finishes their Butterbeers and leaves the pub. 

“I hope you still have time to head to the tea shop! Happy Valentine’s Day!” Bryn says to them in an unusually polite voice. He brings them into a tight hug. “Don’t tell anyone about our conversation,” he whisper-warns. “And be very careful. Keep an eye on one another. Good luck with the rest of the Tournament.” 

Once he lets go of his sister and her boyfriend, Bryn waves at them and Disapparates. Moira and Cedric stay silent for a moment as they try to compute everything. 

“I’ve got to get my Apparating license,” remarks Cedric as he breaks the silence. 

“So do I,” agrees Moira. “We still have time before we go back, right?” 

Cedric checks his watch and nods. 

“Still up for rock cakes? It could absorb some of the Butterbeer....” she proposes. He nods again. They set off to return to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop and continue their Valentine’s Day plans. Both actively avoid talking about the conversation they had at the Three Broomsticks. They also avoid talking about the Tournament. Instead, they enjoy their rock cakes, exchange sweet words, hold hands, and try their best to blend in with the other pairs of lovebirds from Hogwarts. Nevertheless, the events leading up to their selections from the Goblet of Fire plays on repeat in the back of their minds. 

  
  



	14. Chapter 14

On the morning of February 24th, 1995, Moira (whose hair is braided once again in two cornrows) and Cedric are on a small boat with Fleur and Viktor. The four Champions are wearing robes with the insignias from their respective schools and straps for their wands on their calves. No one exchanges a word, but the air is far more confident in comparison to the First Task. At least in the minds of the Hogwarts co-Champions, the task appears to feel inherently easier than the last… so they think. 

The morning for Moira and Cedric has been strange so far. They were forced to have breakfast by themselves as Roger and Salvia failed to arrive at the Great Hall. Not that the couple minds being alone, but they were hoping that their friends would boost their morale before the Task. 

As they arrive at their destination, the Champions see that various stands have been constructed on the lake. It resembles the Quidditch House stands. As they arrive at a designated “Champion’s stand”, they are assisted out of the boat by an ever-so excited Bagman. Now standing on the edge of the stands, he moves amongst the Champions and lines them up. Moira and Cedric stand next to each other with their wands in their hands. Viktor stands to the left of Cedric and Fleur is at the very end of the line. As the crowds (who have arrived earlier) cheer them on, the four Champions offer awkward and shy waves as they remove their robes and reveal their swimsuits. Moira and Cedric wear their House-issued swimsuits (the same ones they wore when they took the bath) while Viktor and Fleur wear swimsuits issued from their respective schools. 

The happy-go-lucky announcer pats each Champion on the back and points his wand at his throat. “ _Sonorus_!”. 

“All our Champions are ready for the Second Task, which will start on my whistle,” Bagman announces as his voice booms throughout the stands. “They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three. One… Two… _Three_!” 

The whistle echoes. Ignoring the cheers and applause from the stands, all four Champions dive into the lake. Moira and Cedric nonverbally conjure their Bubble-Head Charms, take a breath, and place their wands in their strap. Nodding at each other, the couple swims off together. 

Except for their faces, their bodies shiver within the extremely icy water. The only way the teenagers can rectify this is to keep moving through the water as they delve deep into the depths of the lake. Keeping in their pair, the couple swims in silence. Small fish swim by as they mind their own business. Columns of weed sway about and bombard the couple, forcing them to swim through it. Feeling uneasy about the weed, Moira reaches for Cedric’s hand and they pull each other as they hurriedly get through the bush. 

On the other side of the column, a deafening silence greets the pair as they look around them and see nothing but the shimmer of the lake.

“I think we got lost,” guesses Cedric. As she looks around them, Moira feels a pull in a particular direction. She hears a voice inside of her urging her to swim to delve deep and head west of the lake. “Follow me, I have an idea,” suggests Moira, who leads the way as Cedric follows her. 

They continue to swim in silence and look around them for about twenty minutes when they hear echoes of a familiar tune. 

_“An hour-long you’ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took…”_

The couple look at each other in the same way two fish would to each other in confusion. “Do you hear that?” asks Moira. They follow the song. Cedric sees a large rock consisting of paintings depicting merpeople chasing after the lake’s giant squid with spears. He nudges Moira to pause and look. He gives her a distorted happy smirk that says “Told you so.” 

_“… your time’s half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot…”_

Cedric looks at his watch, which is somehow still working underwater. Though his face looks distorted from Moira’s perspective, she could tell that he is panic-stricken. “There’s not much time left.” 

The Champions increase their swimming speed and appear to enter what looks like a mervillage. They continue to follow the song and finally encounter a choir of merpeople singing. 

Behind the choir, four figures are bound tightly to the tail of a statue. The pair politely swims around the merpeople and approach the statue. As they get closer, they discover that the figures are Roger Davies, Hermione Granger, Salvia Boswell, and a little girl that strongly resembles Fleur. All four of them are in their school uniforms. The mystery of their friends’ disappearance at breakfast this morning is suddenly solved. Moira guesses that this is Gabrielle, Fleur’s little sister, whom Moira has seen around the castle grounds. The floating quartet is limp and seemingly asleep. 

Slightly wary of the merpeople who watch, the pair pull out their wands and carefully approach the hostages, who are tied with thick seaweed. Without thinking or discussing, the pair splits up. Cedric reaches for Salvia (his best platonic friend and his first Hufflepuff friend at Hogwarts) and Moira reaches for Roger (her best platonic friend and her first Ravenclaw friend at Hogwarts). 

“ _Emancipare_!’ incants Moira as she grabs Roger. “ _Emancipare_!’ incants Cedric as he grabs Salvia. The Champions place their wands back in their strap and begin to swim towards the surface with their retrieved hostage in hand. 

Moira feels something suddenly wrap around her strapless calf. She (and Roger) are suddenly and violently yanked down several feet down the water. She attempts to call out for Cedric but she is unable to see him (or Salvia). As the descent continues, the sounds of Moira’s screams bounce around the bubble as it begins to slightly fog. She tries to fling and kick about but the grip remains. 

She eventually stops screaming and pants in terror as she does her best to collect her thoughts. Still holding onto Roger with one arm, Moira reaches for her strap. As she looks down, she sees the fingers of a grindylow (a small horned water demon) dragging her down. 

“Accio wand!” she calls out. The wand flings onto Moira’s hands as quickly as her increasing heart rate. She points it at the grindylow and cries “ _Relashio_!” 

A series of sparks burn the water demon. Now wincing in pain, the grindylow loosens its grip. Unfortunately, more grindylows approach from below. Moira screams “ _Depulsio_!” several times as she continues to journey to the surface. Wary of the time remaining, she increases her swimming speed. 

As she clutches onto Roger and her wand (in case she is ambushed again) her legs begin to burn and ache as she flaps them about. She occasionally looks to Roger (who appears to still be asleep) as she keeps her eyes on the surface. The daylight begins to partially blind the Champion as she speeds towards the surface. Within a few minutes, Moira’s bubble bursts as her head rises above the lake water. Roger, who is suddenly awakened, flashes a smile at Moira. The crowd cheers and applause upon seeing them emerge. 

“Moira! Mate! You did it!” exclaims an ecstatic Roger as he hugs her tightly. 

They swim over to the Champions’ stand, where they see Cedric and Salvia, who are tightly bundled in blankets. Roger climbs up a ladder where he is pulled up by Pomfrey, who immediately attends to him. As Moira climbs up next, Cedric offers his hand and helps her up the ladder.

“I’ve got you! Are you alright? I swear you were right behind me!” asks Cedric in a worried but loving tone.

“I got ambushed by a grindylow. It dragged me down, but I got out al- Ow!” explains Moira as she feels an aggressive burn on her calf. This impacts her standing and topples, but Cedric catches her. They look down at her calf, which bears a burn mark in the exact places where the grindylow grabbed her. Cedric helps her walk over to Pomfrey, who meets them half-way. She winces from the excruciating pain as she limps. They guide her to the first aid section of the stand where they carefully help her sit.

Pomfrey wraps Moira in thick blankets and feeds her a spoonful of a very hot potion. She then rubs an orange paste on the burn area. Moira assumes that it is the same paste that was used on Cedric’s face after his encounter with the Swedish Short-Snout dragon. Now sitting next to her, Cedric wraps his arm around Moira. Surviving yet another task, they hug each other. Moira is slightly shakened from the attack. In an effort to comfort her (and seek body warmth), Cedric hugs his girlfriend tighter.

Soon after, Roger and Salvia join them. The four of them shiver and drip as they take in the crowd fanfare. 

“Has anyone else returned?” asks Roger. 

“Just us four, right Cedric?” answers Salvia. 

Before Cedric could answer, the Ravenpuff Gang hears a series of wailing and screaming. The group looks around to spot the source of the sound. It’s Fleur, who is screaming and crying as she tries to dive back into the water. She is physically restrained by Madame Maxime and several Beauxbatons students. 

“NON! GABRIELLE! NON! NON! GABRIELLE! NON! NON!” 

As Fleur continues her meltdown, a shark emerges from the water with Hermione. The shark quickly untransfigurates and reveals itself to be Viktor. The crowd applauses and cheers as they climb out of the water and are attended to by Madam Pomfrey. 

A few minutes later, a merperson emerges from the water with Gabrielle, who swims to the ladder. Fleur pulls her up and brings her into a sisterly hug. For a brief moment, Moira projects an image of Angelica onto Gabrielle, but it is instantly shattered by the agony in Fleur’s wails. 

“C'était les grindylows! Ils m'ont attaqué! Oh Gabrielle, j'ai pensé… j'ai pensé… (It was the grindylows! They attacked me! Oh Gabrielle, I thought… I thought…)” 

The Beauxbatons Champion gives up on her articulation and continues to hug her little sister. No one understands Fleur’s words but the distraught tone is universally understood. 

“Looks like the grindylows prefer to prey on girls.” mutter Madam Pomfrey. Moira looks down at Fleur’s ankles and feet. She notices that they are covered in orange paste. 

Crouching at the water’s edge, Dumbledore makes a series of screechy noises from his mouth that resembles the sound that eggs emitted on land. It seems that he is communicating with a merperson. He straightens up and says “A conference before we give the marks, I think.” The judges huddle together and talk. Everyone but Crouch is present. He appears to have been replaced by a twenty-something-year-old red-headed boy, something that strikes Moira as peculiar. After a few minutes, Bagman comes out and begins to speak with his booming voice: 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the Champions, as follows… Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.” 

The stands offer cheerful applause. “I deserve a zero,” laments Fleur. Dumbledore continues after crowd noise dies down. 

“Cedric Diggory, who has also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We, therefore, award him forty-seven points.” 

As Hogwarts cheers and applauds him, the battle cry of the Hufflepuffs echoes throughout the lake. Cedric lets out a radiant (but modest) smile as Moira, Salvia, and Roger hug him and cheer him on. The three of them applaud him. 

“Moira Crane, who has also used the Bubble-Head Charm was second to return with her hostage, though she returned five minutes outside of the hour limit,” continues Bagman. “We, therefore, award her forty-two points.” 

The Ravenclaws let out their own battle cry as Hogwarts applauds again. Moira is hugged by Cedric, Salvia, and Roger. She receives her own applause from her friends. She wonders if the judges are aware of her grindylow encounter that obviously impacted her timing, but shrugs it off as she is grateful that she finished the Task, which was not as easy as she assumed. 

Roger appears to run a calculation in his head when he shouts “Bloody Merlin!’, making his three friends, Fleur, Gabrielle, Viktor, and Hermione look at him. 

“Moira! Cedric! You’re both tied!” he continues. Moira and Cedric look at each other, let out an astonished celebratory laugh, and embrace each other so fast that they nearly lose their balance. 

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective and was third to return with his hostage. We award him forty-points,” explains Bagman. 

Another applause from the crowd. Realizing he’s placed third, he mumbles something to Hermione, who offers him a comforting hug. 

“The Third and Final Task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June. The Champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the Champions.” concludes Bagman. 

“‘Cedric Diggory and Moira Crane: Equally Pretty, Equally Worthy, and EQUALLY TIED’!” shouts Salvia as they slowly leave the stands and hop onto one of the boats. Various students from other boats cheer, woo, and chant “TIE! TIE! TIE!” 

“June…” says Cedric in between the chants. 

“May, really. And then June,” replies Moira. 

“And then it’s over… We’re almost there.” finishes Cedric. 

They take a sigh of relief as they realize that they get to take a four-month break from the Tournament. Until May, the couple can return to being regular sixth-years at Hogwarts.


	15. Chapter 15

The High Witch. Seven of Wands. The World. All Upright. 

Moira neither reacts nor judges the tarot cards that she just pulled onto the library table. A blissful calm takes over her as she examines each one, nodding, and records her observations in her Divination notebook. Cedric has been watching her from the corner of his eye as he tries to read from his Astronomy textbook. He is fascinated by both her practice and the aesthetic of the cards. 

“Is this for Divination?” whisper-asks Cedric, who is careful to not jolt Moira out of her card reading. 

“Trelawney wants us to practice our cartomancy skills on ourselves and one other person before tomorrow’s class,” explains Moira in a hushed tone. 

“May I ask what it means?” he asks with a respectful tone. 

“High Witch is intuition. Seven of Wands is perseverance. The World is completion. So it could mean that I could be finishing something soon and that I just need to persist… And that I should rely more on my instinct. This could be referring to the term or the Tournament, and since both are ending two months from now, it could just mean that the school year is almost over and that I just need to keep going and get out of my head.” 

Cedric, who has always admired but struggled with the field of Divination, nods. “Ah. Want to practice on me?” he curiously asks. 

“Sure,” she says as she stacks up the cards. 

Moira clears her thoughts. She objectively studies his physical appearance, his aura, and his demeanor. She closes her eyes and meditates for about ten seconds before shuffling. She takes her time to move the cards. Cedric feels suddenly relaxed by the motions and sounds of her shuffling. After about thirty seconds, she stops. She places the cards (facing down) on the table and spreads them. Moira opens her eyes and he is immediately entranced by her gaze. “Pull out three cards.” she instructs. 

Fixating his grey eyes onto her brown eyes, Cedric pulls out the cards and places them on the table. Without looking, Moira flips the cards. When she sets her attention onto the cards, his eyes follow. 

Eight of Swords, Seven of Wands, and The Star. The first card is Reversed while the other two are Upright. 

Cedric restrains his impulse to talk as he watches her take in the cards. He first notices the Seven of Wands card, as he just saw Moira pull the same exact card earlier. He is slightly distressed by the imagery of the first card (a blindfolded woman surrounded by swords) but decides to stay optimistic. 

“Eight of Swords typically refers to entrapment,” explains Moira, “but yours is Reversed, meaning it’s upside down, so this is freedom… or relief. Seven of Wands is perseverance, and The Star means hope. So… it could mean that you should relax and carry on since everything is going to turn out fine.” 

Moira maintains her serene composure as she writes down her notes and thoughts. “The problem with these cards is that it’s very vague, but on the other hand, it makes them… fun. I like to believe that the meaning of the cards only makes sense to the person in question,” she says as she writes. She looks back up at her boyfriend, and notices for the first time in a few minutes that he is unusually relaxed… on the verge of sleeping.

“You alright? Cedric?” 

“Hmmm?” 

He suddenly appears extremely alert. “Sorry… it’s just that… it’s very relaxing to watch you use the cards.” 

“Hmmm….” she notes. “Never seen that happen before.”

The next day, Moira begins to present her findings to Professor Trelawney and her Divination classmates. She presents both her own readings and Cedric’s (whose identity she keeps anonymous). 

“-You and the student both pulled out Seven of Wands?” asks Trelawney, who halts Moira’s speech. 

“Yes, Professor,” answers Moira. 

“And the Eight of Swords… tell me… which direction did they find the card?” 

“It was Reversed.” 

“Revered? A Reversed Eight of Swords and an Upright Seven of Wands… Intriguing.” soliloquizes Trelawney. 

“Could I take advantage of this pause to pose a question?” asks Moira in her most formal student voice. 

“Of course!” 

“The student… they appeared to be … well, they claimed that the cards were relaxing them, but to me, they seemed quite… beguiled.” 

Trelawney, who typically sways about and mystically gestures while looking at a student, ceases her actions. She comes closer to Moira and maternally cusps her face. “It means, my little bird, that you have the Sight!” cries out Trelawney in sheer jubilee. “We must speak after class!” 

“My little bird” is a term of endearment that Moira earned from Professor Trelawney after learning of her surname (Moira Crane). Initially skeptical of it due to the numerous bird jokes and puns that she’s received during her primary school years, Moira came to warm up to the nickname as she began to notice that Trelawney always said it with fondness. Reflecting on the nickname, she now wonders if her professor might have foreseen her Transfiguration. 

Right after the classroom empties, Trelawney begins to grin and clap her hands as she looks at Moira. “It is always exciting to meet another Seer! I have so much to teach you! And so little time! I suppose we could meet after classes… what do you reckon?” 

“I can’t See, Professor,” states Moira matter-of-fact. 

“Ah! But you do!” insists Trelawney as she places a crystal ball on the table. “Come! Look into the Orb and tell me what you See! You needn’t rush!”

Moira stares into the Orb. It is blank white. Suddenly, a light sparks within the center of the ball. A warm-colored fog engulfs the ball. Trelawney, who watches from the corner, grows animated. A familiar audio loop of laughter rushes between her ears. It beckons Moira to examine the crystal ball.

From the fog emerges a laughing child (she estimates to be about eleven-years-old) at a train station, which reminds Moira of King’s Cross Station. The child’s face is initially blurry, but the Orb enhances the vision, revealing a rosy-cheeked, brown-haired, and grey-eyed boy, who lets out an innocent and whimsical laugh.

It eerily reminds her of… 

“Professor, I think the Orb might be busted.” remarks a puzzled Moira as she continues to watch the scene unfold.

“Oh? What makes you assume that, my little bird?” 

“Because I’m watching something within the crystal -” 

“-This is good! It means that you are truly Seeing!”

“But I’ve seen this before.” 

Trelawney gets up and turns Moira’s chair. The student, who was still staring into the Orb, now looks into the spectacle framed eyes of her professor. 

“Do elaborate. What did you See in the crystal ball?” implores Trelawney. 

“A little boy. He was chuckling.” 

“Who is the boy?” 

“Cedric… when he was about eleven or so, and he was laughing. I could hear him.” 

“You heard the laugh?” 

“Yes, and I’ve heard this laugh before! Cedric used to have a very… Boyish laugh. He still has the same laugh, but this was before his voice deepened…” 

Trelawney gives her an exaggerated inquisitive look through her glasses. “What makes you think that this boy is Cedric?” 

“It’s the same face, the same rosy cheeks, the same eyes! Slightly darker hair, which could be the lighting, but the boy in the Orb is very much Cedric Diggory, whom I’ve known since I was eleven! I’m confident I’d recognize Cedric when I see him!” argues Moira, who pauses to watch Trelawney absorb the relayed information. 

“I thought Orbs assisted one in looking only into the future. Could they possibly look into the past?” the student continues. 

Trelawney studies Moira for a few seconds before answering, “No. Never. Only the future.” 

“But Professor-” 

“Whatever you saw, it is in the future!” passionately insists Trelawney. “You cannot See what has already happened!” 

Moira’s eyebrows furrow as she attempts to understand her teacher’s words. Trelawney places her hand on her student’s shoulder and offers her an empathetic pat on her shoulder. “You may not always understand what you See, but I promise you that one day you will. And when the moment occurs, you will recall this very moment… And you will chuckle in an epiphany.” 

“Why do I have the feeling that you know something that I don’t?” muses Moira. 

“Because I do. Such is the way of the Seer. One day, you will know as much as I do, and more.” Trelawney responds with an affectionate smile. 

Letting the words linger in the air, the professor heads to one of her bookshelves and pulls out a thick and archaic-looking turquoise book. She walks back to the table Moira is sitting at and places it in front of her student. Moira, with expressive permission from Trelawney, flips through the book. The pages are blank. 

“I would like you, for the rest of the term, to keep a dream diary. You must record whatever occurs, whether it’s a dream, a nightmare, or even a brief image you see during a nap.” requests Trelawney. Moira awkwardly smiles. 

“You seem troubled by the task. I believe you were able to do this last year. What I ask of you is no different,” observes the professor. 

“I am… because I don’t think I dream… or I can’t remember my dreams… At least not recently… I’m not entirely sure why. I just… sleep. I may not be suited for the task you ask of me.” confesses Moira, who is telling the genuine truth. 

The Seer offers an unconventional but confident smile. “Trust me, my little bird, we all dream eventually. When it happens to you, no matter how long it takes, record everything that occurs, and immediately seek me.” 


	16. Chapter 16

At 8:30pm on May 24th, 1995, Moira is walking down the Entrance Hall, where she is joined by Cedric. They were instructed earlier by their House Heads to appear at the Quidditch Field at 9pm to await instructions regarding the Third Task from Bagman. 

“What do you reckon it’s going to be?” wanders Cedric. “Did Fleur tell you about her theory about underground tunnels?” 

“She did,” says Moira. “Though that feels too safe… Then again, that’s what I also thought about the last one.” 

The Hogwarts co-Champions walk down to the Quidditch stadium. Though it’s been over a year since they’ve last set foot in this area of the castle ground, their knowledge of the stadium is pure muscle memory. They turn through a gap in the stands and walk onto the field. Cedric freezes in his tracks. His expression is cross. 

“What’ve they done to it?” he asks with a piqued tone. 

The Quidditch field, which is typically smooth, flat, and pleasing to an athlete’s eyes, is now filled with low walls that are arranged in a rather chaotic fashion. Moira, who is less than happy at the transformed field, does her best to maintain a stoic expression while Cedric is openly pouting. They continue to walk. Moira does not initially understand his reaction, but given the aggravation of the previous Tasks in combination with the stress of his NEWT-level classes and his Prefect duties, she is deducing that this is his breaking point… which could not have manifested at a worse time. 

“Hedges…” observes Moira.

“Are you serious?!” openly complains Cedric. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this-”

“-Ced… breathe…” encourages Moira with a cautious tone. He tries, but it fails as a remedy as he grows exasperated. 

“-Hello there!” interrupts a voice that will forever freak out the four Champions. The couple now shifts their attention to Ludo bagman, who now stands in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur, who appear happy to see them. The couple, who are at a distance, politely smile and wave before turning to each other. 

“We can’t afford to break. Not now. Please. I’m not happy about this either, trust me, but we need to get through this. Please-.” pleads Moira whose voice cracks a little. Cedric closes his eyes and finally breathes as he blatantly pulls himself together. When he opens his eyes, Moira notices several tears leaving his eyes, which are completely drenched. “We’re going to get through this, alright?” she assures him as she quickly wipes them away. He nods in agony. They climb over some of the hedges to catch up with Bagman, Viktor, and Fleur. 

“Well, what do you think?” asks Bagman with his permanent happy-go-lucky tone. “Growing nicely, aren’t they? Give them a month and Hagrid will have them twenty feet high.” The announcer notices Cedric’s slight grimace and Moira’s slight frown as the two looks around them. 

“Don’t worry,” continues Bagman with a smile, which stings the Hogwarts co-Champions. “You’ll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we’re making here?” 

The primary teacher tone of Bagman’s question builds irritation inside Moira, who simply wants Bagman to get to the point for the meeting and end it. “It’s a maze,” estimates Krum. Moira wonders if it’s a genuine guess, or if it’s another leak he got from Karkaroff. 

“That’s right!” exclaims Bagman.

Slightly irate, Moira is now beginning to understand her boyfriend’s attitude. 

“A maze! The Third Task is really very straightforward,” continues Bagman. “The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first Champion to touch it will receive full marks.” 

“Thank Merlin. ” Moira silently thinks to herself. 

“We simply have to get through the maze?” skeptically asks Fleur. 

“There will be obstacles” explains Bagman with an almost positively creepy tone as he bounces about. “Hagrid is providing a number of creatures… then there will be spells that must be broken… all that sort of thing, you know.” 

The wheels begin to turn in Moira and Cedric’s head as they begin to strategize, but they notice that Bagman opens his mouth once more. 

“Now, the Champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze,” he explains as he beams at the couple. “Mr. Diggory and Miss Crane will enter first… Then Mr. Krum will enter… then Miss Delacour. But you’ll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?” 

All four Champions politely nod at him, though they can feel each other silently groan. Bagman, who is oblivious to the groups’ reluctant misery, smiles. 

“Very well… if you haven’t got any questions, we’ll go back up to the castle, shall we? It’s a bit chilly…” concludes Bagman. The group begins to walk back to the castle when a disheveled man staggers from the trees. All five of them pull out their wands (with the intention of self-defense) when they slowly recognize the man. 

“Crouch? Is that you?” asks Bagman. Crouch mumbles and gestures about, never addressing the group. He is hallucinating. Bagman beckons for the teenagers to stay behind him. 

“…And when you’ve done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the Tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve…” 

“Crouch?” cautiously asks Bagman once more. 

“…And then send another owl to Madame Maxime because she might want to up the number of students she’s bringing, now Karkaroff’s made it a round dozen… do that Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..” 

Crouch stares at a few trees. He gestures at them before staggering and dropping to his knees. 

“What’s wrong with him?” asks Viktor. The teenagers spread themselves as they watch Crouch. All of them are too scared to make any sudden moves. 

“No idea… One of you! Go fetch someone!” yells Bagman.

“Dumbledore!” cries out Crouch, who seizes a handful of Moira’s robes. She lets out a yelp as she is dragged to the ground. 

“Must…tell… Dumbledore… ” chants Crouch as he increases his grip on Moira, who is clearly panicking. Bagman and Viktor attempt to pull up Crouch while Fleur and Cedric liberate Moira. 

“Warn… Dumbledore…” Crouch now turns his attention to the trees. “Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge.” 

“All of you! Go get Dumbledore! Now!” orders Bagman as he tries to pin down Crouch. 

“What about you?” asks Fleur. 

“Go! Now!” insists Bagman, who is clearly struggling. 

The Champions take off together. As they leave, they hear Crouch yell “Don’t… leave… me! I’ve… escaped… must warn… must tell… see Dumbledore… My fault… all my fault… tell Dumbledore… H-”

“Hurry!” interrupts Bagman as he yells over Crouch. 

Fleur and Viktor follow Moira and Cedric as they lead the way. They run up the stone steps, through the oak front doors, up the marble steps, and towards the second floor. As they yell and scream for Dumbledore, Snape approaches, and glares at them. 

“What are you all doing here?” snarls Snape. 

The Champions erratically explain the situation at the same time. Snape is clearly overwhelmed. 

“I can’t understand any of you! Behave your ages!” 

Dumbledore appears behind Snape, who turns around. The commotion must have attracted the headmaster’s attention. “Professor! Mr. Crouch is outside near the Quidditch tent! He wants to speak with you immediately! That’s all he’s asking!” explains Cedric in his Prefect voice, which is authoritative but respectful. 

Dumbledore follows the group of teenagers to the exact spot. There’s no sign of Crouch. Only Bagman, who lies on the ground. “Stunned,” mutters Dumbledore as he gently lifts one of his eyelids. The headmaster then raises his wand in the direction of the Gamekeeper’s Cottage. He then points his wand at Bagman.“ _Rennervate_.”

Bagman wakes up. He tries to get up, but Dumbledore places a hand on his shoulder. “Lie still for a moment, Bagman.”

“What happened?” asks Bagman. “Oh hello, Champions! Still hanging around the stadium?” 

The Champions look amongst themselves. Dumbledore looks around suspiciously. Hagrid, the gamekeeper, and Creature Care instructor, joins the group. He looks only at Dumbledore. 

“Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Moody,” orders Dumbledore with a grave tone.

“No need, Dumbledore,” says a voice from behind them. “I’m here.” 

Moody limps towards them with his wand lit. He looks at the four Champions. “You lot should head back.” 

“I must agree with Professor Moody,” says Dumbledore. “I believe you have plenty to do ahead of the next Task.” 

Shrugging, the Champions split off. A few minutes later, Moira and Cedric are walking through the Entrance Hall in silence. “You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m not sure. How about you?” she asks in return. 

“I’m out of it, to be honest, but I’m up for working on the Task if you are.” 

“I think I am.” 

They walk up the stairs as they head for the library. 

“I thought Crouch was sick,” says Cedric. 

“I remember reading that, but I don’t think he’s physically sick. I’ve been reading everything in the _Prophet_ with a hint of caution lately… especially anything that Skeeter is behind,” says Moira with disdain in her voice. 

After Rita Skeeter attempted to clearly suck up to the Crane family through her article _The White-Winged Crane_ , she reverted back to her gossipy ways as she began to report on Hagrid’s half-giant ancestry, Viktor and Hermione’s romance, and even the fact that Fleur and Roger haven’t been seen together since The Yule Ball. She even somehow got word of Moira’s dress at the Ball and hailed it as “the dress of the decade”. 

“How was she able to get information on everyone in the castle? She hasn’t been around here since you snubbed her after the dragons.” Cedric thinks out loud. 

“No idea, but I wouldn’t be surprised if people have been leaking information to the _Prophet_. It’s not unheard of, unfortunately,” explains Moira.

The next day, Moody asks for the co-Champions to stay behind after Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

“Sorry you kids had to see that last night, must have been a terrifying scene.” begins the Auror. 

Moira and Cedric shrug.

“We’ve seen worse.” stoically states Moira, who still remembers Moody calling her “delicate” back in October. Moody analyzes the couple for a moment before speaking. 

“I have to admit that I’ve been impressed with each of your performances in both the classroom and in the Tournament. You’re both durable in your own unique ways,” says Moody. “It’s clear that either one of you will win… though it’s hard to say which.”

“Either way, Hogwarts wins, and that’s all that matters,” remarks Cedric. Moody nods with an air of pride as he grins. 

“I will not tell you much but I will tell you this: now is a good time to read back on your notes for the year. And remember… Constant Vigilance.” 

With that in mind, the co-Champions head back to their practice room on the seventh floor. They begin to practice on their feet and only refer to their notes when stuck. For today’s session, they begin with the Reductor Curse, which destroys any solid object. They inflict the jinx on several statues and large objects scattered through the room. After a couple of hours, they take a quiet break. 

“I still can’t believe it’s a tie,” remarks Cedric as he breaks the silence between the two of them. A heavy lump begins to form around Moira’s chest and throat as she begins to ponder on his remark. The events of October 31st flashes through her head, and she begins to frown. 

“Me too… but I think you’re going to win,” quietly admits Moira, which earns a skeptical look from her boyfriend. “You act faster than you think,” is her justification. 

“Which is precisely why I got half my face burned off,” says Cedric with a slightly painful laugh. “You think before you act, which is why you placed first. You clearly thought about the Transfiguration before you did it!”

“I only won the first challenge because I improvised. I improvised because I panicked and I got lucky!” explains Moira. 

“No, you figured it all out after we saw the dragons. I only won the second because a grindylow didn’t grab me. That was pure luck.” argues Cedric.

“Don’t be silly! The Bubble Head Charm was your idea! You solved the problem with the egg! None of that would have ever occurred to me! Grindylow or no grindylow, you would have ended up in first place! You were the faster swimmer!” 

“But-” 

“- Cedric! Stop being so bloody stubborn and admit for once that you have a chance at winning! It’s not flattering to keep beating yourself down all the bloody time!” explodes Moira, who is notably choking up amongst her sudden anger. “The Goblet chose you. You are worthy… and you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” 

Cedric gives her a sorrowful look. “You’re worthy too.” 

Tears burst out the seams of Moira’s eyes against her will. She crouches down on the ground. It looks as though she too has reached her breaking point. “It was supposed to be three Champions, not four, remember?” 

Cedric comes closer and sits next to Moira. He doesn’t touch her, as it feels it may not be the most appropriate gesture. He senses that it’s tears of sadness, but perhaps those of anxiety. Her state is no different than the one he was in the night before. The only difference is that her breaking point is happening at a better time. He too wants to cry out of stress, but he decides to be what she was for him yesterday: a rock. 

After about thirty seconds of a painful cry, Moira manages to fix her voice as she begins to speak shakily. 

“When the Goblet chose me… I almost didn’t get up. I only did because I didn’t want to infuriate Dumbledore. You got all of the praise and cheers, and rightly so. When I looked into everyone’s eyes… I felt as though I somehow cheated… although I know I didn’t. I don’t deserve to be in this position because…” 

Moira stops speaking for a moment because she begins to feel a lump form in her throat. She takes a deep breath and continues speaking, but her voice begins to break.

“… Because I wasn’t supposed to be… It’s supposed to be you… and only you! You would have managed to still be the lead! You would still have a higher chance than Viktor or Fleur! I don’t deserve to win because I was never supposed to be here! If I win, if I somehow manage to get through the maze, I’m practically stealing from you! No matter how well I fare, I will always be remembered as ‘The Fourth Champion’ which is practically code for ‘The Girl Who Wasn’t Supposed To Be Chosen’!” 

Cedric shakes his head as he begins to wipe her tears. “No, you won’t.” 

“How can you be so sure?” she defiantly asks. “How?!” 

He shrugs and offers a small smile. “Because you, Moira, are my equal. I must confess that I was shocked when the Goblet picked me first. I was shocked…I thought it was going to choose only you… But when you came in and told us that you were also selected… I was finally happy. It felt… fair to me that you were also in the Tournament, and you’ve only proved me right so far. I know you want me to recognize my own validity as a Champion but I can’t do that without acknowledging yours. I just can’t… But if I must… I promise you that if I’m worthy, you’re worthy. If I deserve to be here, you deserve to be here. If I can win this… You can win this.” 

Having ceased crying while listening to Cedric, Moira nods. They go in for a simply comforting embrace. As they hug, he strokes her back and encourages her to bury her head into his shoulder, which she does. 

“I also must add that you will forever be known as ‘The White-Winged Crane’,” reminds Cedric. 

Moira cringes as they chuckle. 

As they let go, Moira offers up a faint smile. “It’s still a Hogwarts victory either way.”

“Any and all outcomes?” he asks with a nostalgic tone. 

“Any and all outcomes,” she answers.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: DEATH. Detailed Violence (Magical). Detailed Terror, Panic, and Distress. Detailed Pain, Agony, and Tears. Not Canon Compliant. Spoilers for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (novel and film).

June 14th, 1995. 

Moira has just snuck back into her dorm after four hours of Task prep with Cedric. They practiced Shield Charms and throwing a series of hexes, jinxes, and offensive charms at one another. Ever since Moira’s meltdown, she feels that the two feel stronger as both a couple and as “teammates” (she mentally places the word in quotation marks because technically speaking, they were never supposed to be helping each other as it is “cheating”… of course by the time they made that discovery, they simply shrugged off the rule). 

Though her Champion status exempts her from the end of year exams, she still desires to exert herself as though she were. After she changes into her pajamas, she opens up her Advanced Transfiguration textbook and begins to read. The weight of her eyelids, unfortunately, increases with each blink…

Moira immediately notices a wall of leaves… the hedges that Cedric despises with a burning passion. They are now at least twenty, if not thirty feet high. Her heart rate is raised and she finds herself catching her breath. She looks around her and sees a bloodied and bruised-up Cedric doing the same as he puts his wand in his pocket. There’s a notable trail of blood on his face, but it’s difficult to discern if it’s from a cut or elsewhere. He wears an athleisure black and yellow long-sleeved shirt. She quickly realizes that she’s wearing the same exact shirt, but hers is black and blue. They both wear long black track pants with the same pair of footwear they wore during the First Task. 

“You alright?” worriedly asks Cedric. 

Moira’s head nods and feels her lips moving and she herself says “I think so…” 

They turn and see the Triwizard Cup between them. A relieved smile breaks out between them. 

“It’s over… it’s over…” she says in a fit of laughter. “We win…” 

He nods as tears of joy fall down his tears as he says “We win.” 

A heavyweight leaves their torsos as a calm glee enters the air between them. 

“Together?” he asks. 

“Of course,” she says. 

They reach for the Cup. 

“One…” he counts

“Two…” she counts 

“Three!” they yell as they grab the Cup at the same exact time. 

Moira feels her belly button being pulled first as her feet are lifted off the ground. The winners are unable to let go of the Cup as they violently swirl in yellow and blue. 

The winners violently hit the ground and the Cup rolls away. It’s clear they’ve left the maze… except there’s no fanfare… no professors… no grass… no stands… just… a series of never-ending tombstones. Based on Bagman’s instructions, it was quite clear that the Cup was going to be a Portkey… but Moira senses that this is not part of the Task. 

“Something’s not right. We’re not supposed to be here.” nervously states Moira. 

“Wands out, do you reckon?” strongly suggests Cedric. She nods, and they pull out their wands.

“Where do you think we are?” he asks. 

“No idea… but I have a feeling we’re not in Scotland any more,” she answers as she senses something leering. “I think there’s someone else here.” 

A cloaked figure appears between the graves. It slowly approaches them. It holds something that neither teenager can discern. They give each other a perplexed look. 

“Get behind me.” urges Cedric as he raises his wand proceeds with caution as he advances towards the figure. Moira, also pointing her wand, follows from a few steps behind. “Who are you?” sternly demands Cedric. “What do you want?”

The figure halts from several feet away and the three simply stare at one another. Moira tries to advance next to Cedric, but he nonverbally insists that she stays behind him. 

A voice hisses, “Kill the spare!” 

A second voice yells “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

Before either Champion can react, a flash of green light instantly blinds Moira as she hears a large thump near her. When the light dissipates, she realizes that Cedric is no longer in front of her. She behinds her and sees Cedric lying on his back several feet behind her. 

“Cedric!” she screams as she runs over to him. She notices that his chest isn’t rising. As she gets closer, she sees that his gray eyes are wide open. His mouth is half-open. He looks surprised. Wanting to believe that he’s stunned, she tries to shake him awake. 

“Cedric?” 

He does not respond. She shakes him again. 

“Cedric?” 

No response. She shakes him again. He is cold and limp. Moira’s senses begin to feel numb. Her heart is on the verge of stopping. She feels her ears begin to ring as the realization dawns on her: Cedric Diggory is dead. She frantically shakes her head. 

“Cedric?”

Her own chest begins to rise as her breath quickens. Her lips begin to quiver as she continues to shake him. 

“Cedric? Cedric? Cedric! ” 

A lump forms in her throat as she violently shakes his body. Tears begin to drop down her face. 

“CEDRIC! CEDRIC! CEDRIC! Please… No… Cedric… No… Don’t go… Don’t leave me… Please don’t leave me.” 

The rest of her words are inaudible as Moira buries her face on his chest and uncontrollably sobs. Unbeknownst to the surviving co-Champion who is drowning in agony, the figure, who merely watches from afar, pulls out their wand and points it at Moira. 

“ _Crucio_!” 

Moira is flung onto the ground. She feels as though her flesh is being forcibly ripped from her bones. She screams in pain. Her tears of grief, are now tears of terror. She now feels herself being dragged in the air and slammed against a marble headstone. 

“ _Incarcerous!_ ”

The figure under the robe conjures tight cords around her. She is unable to move. A piece of black material is shoved into her mouth, which mutes her screams and cries. She looks around her and sees that Cedric’s body is now twenty feet away. She attempts to convince herself that he will somehow wake up, but the longer she looks, the more his death is cemented in her mind. The Triwizard Cup, which she has spent eight months dedicating her life to acquiring, merely glimmers in the distance. It means absolutely nothing to her now. So much for eternal glory. Her wand is still next to Cedric’s body. 

A candle lights up in her mind. It is a weak fire, but it convinces Moira that she still has a fighting chance. That she could flee this place, and bring back the body of her lover… and her first true friend. Her mind is completely murky by the events of what must have been at least thirty or so minutes (but feels like an eternity), but she has at least one centimeter of grit left within her…. And that is enough for Moira Crane. 

“ _Accio_ wand… _Accio_ wand… _Accio_ wand… _Accio_ wand… _Accio_ wand…” 

She deliriously repeats this to herself (non-verbally) until the wand flies into her hand. She shakily points the wand at herself, muttering “Emancipare…”

The ropes immediately release Moira. She spits out the makeshift gag and she attempts to start running, but her body is throbbing from the Cruciatus Curse. Nevertheless, she does her best to move as quickly as she can. She limps between her runs, but she is close to reaching Cedric’s body when she hears:

“ _Crucio_!”

Moira immediately drops to the ground as the pain from earlier emerges again. With only a mere glimmer of strength left in her body, she musters it to crawl next to Cedric’s body just close enough where she can touch him. 

In between her whimpers, she slowly lifts her other hand and gestures towards The Triwizard Cup as she prepares herself to say “ _Accio_ Cup!”, but the same blinding green light from earlier swallows her whole, penetrating her chest first. 

Moira immediately rises from her slumber gasping for air. She clutches her heart as she attempts to feel for a heartbeat. Panting as though she sprint a mile, she looks around her. She is no longer in a graveyard but in her dormitory. She sees that her Advanced Transfiguration textbook is scattered on the floor along with her bedsheets when Trelawney’s words play in her head like an old record: 

“When it happens to you, no matter how long it takes, record everything that occurs, and immediately seek me.”

Keeping Trelawney’s instructions in kind, Moira quickly looks under her bed to find the archaic turquoise book. She grabs a quill, dabs it in some ink, and hurriedly writes down every minute detail… the words…. The actions… the sensations… the pain… the death… All of it. 

She slides on her robe, puts on a pair of sneakers, shoves her dream diary, tarot cards, and divination notebook into her shoulder bag, grabs her wand and ventures from Ravenclaw Tower to the North Tower (also known as the Divination Tower) where Professor Trelawney resides. 

Totally unaware of the time (but assuming that it must be later), Moira maddeningly bangs on Trelawney’s door. After the first three knocks, it is quietly opened by Trelawney, who absorbs Moira’s widened eyes, trembling body, and quivering lips. The professor brings her into a hug and gently places her hand on the student’s head as the latter breaks down. The door closes itself and conceals the two women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I AM SO SORRY. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of DEATH. (Magical) Violence Discussed. Tears and lots of crying. Angst. Panic and Distress. Not Canon Compliant. Spoilers for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (novel and film). Swearing. 
> 
> Extra Note: You may want to be fully caught up as you will be encountering MAJOR SPOILERS.

Trelawney slowly reads Moira’s first and only entry in the turquoise dream diary. Meanwhile, Moira sits on the couch and soberly stares into the ground after about fifteen minutes of sobbing. 

She shuts the book and places it on the table before joining Moira on the couch. “Let me begin this conversation by bestowing words my mother told me when I was a little girl: ‘Not all dreams come true’.” 

Moira’s eyebrows furrow. “But I thought dreams were an extremely potent form of Seeing.” 

Trelawney lets out a soft chuckle. “My mother was a Muggle. My father was a Wizard.” 

“Ah.” 

“Nonetheless, I find that there is wisdom in her logic.” 

“Are you saying that what I Saw was a nasty nightmare?” 

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t think it is.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I don’t know-” 

“-You do.”

Moira reflects on how she felt during the dream before answering. “I…. I just do. I just know. It’s too detailed… too real… too immediate… I felt as though I was watching something develop. It felt too real. I just know that I Saw something… but I don’t understand…. I did numerous tarot readings on him… Never once did I see an omen of doom… let alone omens of… oh Merlin… I can’t just sit there and let him… Am I supposed to accept his fate? Am I supposed to accept my fate? Do I just sit there and let it happen?” 

Trelawney becomes uncharacteristically silent and thinks as she looks at her grief-stricken student. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

“So what am I supposed to do?” 

“Your entry gives the impression that neither of you had any knowledge of what was to happen next. Did I interpret this correctly?” 

“It appears so.” 

“But that is no longer the case. At least one of you knows… You, Moira, have the knowledge of your… demise… and his. If you are both to arrive at the same time, it would be complicated to convince him to not touch the Cup, would it not?” 

Moira nods in agreement. “There has always been an element of stubbornness to Cedric. If that outcome were to occur, to describe it as ‘complicated’ would be an understatement. On the other hand, his modesty would move him to convince me to touch it… and if I were to refuse, but also refuse to let him grab it… It would be a nasty row.” 

“And a modified version of the outcome you saw would still prevail. Now, suppose you both had knowledge of what was to occur-” proposes Trelawney. 

“-What are you insinuating, professor? That I tell Cedric that he’s going to die ten days from now?” skeptically asks Moira. 

“Nine days… and yes! ” 

She gives her professor a horrifying look. “I can’t do that… It would… I don’t know what it may do to him.” 

“This is the struggle of the Seer.” states a frowning Trelawney. 

“I’m not -” 

“-Ah! But you are a Seer! The sooner you embrace this truth… the easier this will be for you.” Trelawney visibly shakes off the thought as she opens her mouth once more. “Allow me to pose you a question, little bird.” 

Moira shrugs. 

“If Cedric had the gift of Sight, which we both know he does not possess, but suppose he did and you did not. If he Saw what you Saw, what do you deduce he would do?” 

Moira sighs and answers without hesitation. “He would tell me… and knowing him, he would insist on trying to change it… on defying the outcome…” 

“Which is why I sent him an owl requesting for his presence within precisely…” Trelawney behind her to look at the clock behind them. “…Two minutes.” 

Moira’s jaw drops. “What?! I can’t see him like this! What am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to say it?” 

“The truth, dear. Simply open your mouth…and let the words flow from your heart. I will be here to facilitate… but it must come from you.” 

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” 

Trelawney shrugs “We will deal with that outcome when it has made its manifestation.” 

The door knocks. “Come in, dear!!” calls out Trelawney. 

Moira silently screams. She fixes her hair and her robe as the door slowly opens. Cedric peaks his head in and spots his girlfriend. 

“Hi, Moira! I didn’t know you’d be coming!” he politely says as he comes in. She offers a weak smile. 

“Do sit down, dear,” instructs Trelawney. He sits next to Moira, who has stiffened with anxiety. 

As soon as she locks eyes with Cedric, Moira’s current predicament finally dawns on her, and it brutally slaps her in the face. “Oh, fuck.” blurts out Moira. Cedric is taken aback by her reaction. She doesn’t quite realize that she said that out loud until she sees his facial expression. 

“What’s wrong?” asks Cedric. 

She avoids eye contact with him as an earthquake forms inside of her. Her first impulse is to flee, but it’s much too late for that now. “Moira… What’s wrong?” asks Cedric again as he leans in. He tries to make eye contact with her but she dodges every attempt to the point where she turns her head. “Look at me, please. You’re scaring me.”

After a few seconds, Moira painfully makes eye contact with Cedric, who looks at her with the most worrisome grey eyes. 

“I have to tell you something”. 

She pauses, as she now is shaking and struggling to get the words out. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she has to. Cedric gently places his hands on her upper arms. They make their way down to her hands, which she squeezes rather tightly. He, too, begins to feel the trembles within her. Trelawney, of course, watches from the corner of the room… 

“It’s okay,” assures Cedric with a small smile. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

She turns to look at Trelawney, who gives her a painful nod. Keeping the elder Seer’s words in mind, the younger Seer breathes and opens her mouth. 

“I should start by saying that you were right.” begins Moira.

“I was? About what?” inquires Cedric. 

“The knowing you were talking about…. Turns out it’s not just a knowing… It’s a Seeing.” 

He begins to radiate. “That’s wonderful news! When did you discover this?” 

“Er…just now… in a sense.”

Something shifts in his mind. The radiance on his face begins to dull. “What you Saw… It’s not good, is it?” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Good news would wait until breakfast. Bad news is immediate.” 

Moira doesn’t react to his sharp observation, which begins to trouble the characteristically optimistic Cedric. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. I can handle bad news,” he says. 

Smoke gets in Moira’s eyes as she becomes choked up. “I don’t know if you can.” 

“Try me.” Cedric gently insists with a slightly shaky voice. 

Moira turns to Trelawney, who stoically nods. The younger Seer musters all the energy to have what she feels to be the most difficult conversation that she will ever have in her life. 

“I had a dream in which we were at the center of the maze in the Third Task. I think we made it together. We won. We both did…. We grabbed the Cup…. which turned out to be a portkey and we left the maze….” 

“What happens next?” he asks.

“…We don’t make it back.” 

He looks confused. “I don’t understand.” 

She closes her eyes and breathes before she answers.“You die.” 

Cedric’s face becomes void. The rosiness that usually fills his face has completely paled. His chest rises faster and the pacing between breaths becomes increasingly shorter. 

“H-How?” he shakily inquires.

She shakes her head. “Please don’t make me say it. Please don’t-”

“-Moira, please!” He insists with a deteriorating voice. “Tell…tell me… how do I… how do I… how do I die?” 

“The Killing Curse.” 

“And what happens to you?” 

“It doesn’t-” 

“It does to me. What happens to you?” 

“I die too… Killing Curse.” 

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” 

“They used that torture spell first before they…. Yeah.” 

“Who-”

“-I don’t know. The figure was cloaked. We may never know. “

Cedric’s senses begin to slowly dull and he feels negatively lighter. His eyes become watery. His tears become waterfalls as he absorbs the information. 

“I’m so sorry….” Moira says between her own tears. She embraces him as he openly sobs. His cries are not attractive. It’s an ugly and feral wail between words. It reeks of human distress.

Her shoulder and the crook of her neck are soaked with his tears. She strokes his back with one hand and runs her fingers through his hair with her other hand. 

“I don’t want to die… I don’t want you to die…I don’t want us to die…” He repeats this on a loop. His agonizing chant increases the pangs within Moira’s heart. 

Cedric lifts his head and looks at Moira. His face has reddened with sorrow and fear. His eyes are puffed and his cheeks are tear-stained. Moira uses a sleeve of her robe to wipe the tears off his face. Her face is also tear-stained, but Trelawney dealt with the initial flood, which was not too different from Cedric’s.

He turns to Trelawney, who has been witness to his understandable meltdown.

“We can change this, right Professor Trelawney?” he desperately begs with his dear life. “Can we avoid this? Surely there’s a way both of us can finish the Tournament alive, right? Right? Surely there is a way. What do you reckon?” 

Trelawney leaves her corner. She gives him a comforting pat on the back as she sits in front of the couple on another chair across the coffee table. She holds a box in her hands. Moira recognizes the box. 

“I cannot make predictions. I can only See what my Inner Eye sees….” she states as she pulls out a deck of tarot cards. “When it comes to Seeing into the futures of individuals, I’ve found that certain methods work well with certain individuals better than others. Moira has told me of your sensitivity to cartomancy. Let’s see what the future holds for you, my dear boy….” says Trelawney as she stacks up the tarot cards. “Moira, as this also concerns you, I ought to See you both simultaneously.” 

She pulls out a scarf and beckons the couple to offer her their hands. She ties their hands together. 

The elder Seer looks into the eyes of the couple for a few seconds before shuffling them about. She mutters something to herself but the teenagers cannot understand her. Cedric falls into a trance similar to the ones he’s felt with Moira’s tarot readings. Moira is soothed by the sound.

“You must pull three cards together. One cannot lead the other. There must not be resistance. You must choose them together.” 

Moira and Cedric slowly bring their hands to the deck. They drag three cards at the same time onto the table. Trelawney flips the cards. 

Seven of Wands. Upright. Two of Cups. Upright. The Moon. Reversed. 

Trelawney and Moira silently study the cards. Cedric looks as well, but he has no idea what’s going on. 

“Seven of Wands… maintain control….Two of Cups…unity… The Moon… The Moon…” observes Trelawney, who gestures at the cards to let its power come to her. 

“We’ve both gotten that card before,” whispers Cedric as he points at the Seven of Wands. “But what do the three mean together?” 

“If you both keep receiving the Seven of Wands, it is a warning to hold your ground. Defend yourselves… and each other… I do not find the timing of this particular card and the dream to be coincidental. Nothing is ever coincidental.”

“So he can make it out of this?” asks Moira.

“You appear to keep neglecting yourself, my little bird! It is not about simply saving him! It is about saving yourself! It is about saving each other! One cannot survive without the other! The Two of Cups correspond with the Seven of Wands in this way!” lectures Trelawney. A candle lights up in Moira’s mind. 

“Professor, do you mind repeating that last part again?” 

“One cannot survive without the other?” 

Moira grabs her bag and pulls out her divination notebook. She flips all the way back to the beginning and silently reads the following: 

_“Trust the inferno as it blazes in twain… Do not fear it, as the elements work in your favor… As does the feather… Save the other… and the other will save you.”_

_-Trelawney having vision (?)_

_Note: Look up “Twain” in a dictionary_

“ _Accio_ dictionary!” summons Moira. A dictionary lands in her hands and she quickly looks up the word “Twain”, which is defined as an “archaic word for two”. 

“Two….” she thinks out loud. “Trust the inferno as it blazes in two… Two…” 

Moira begins to pace around the room. Cedric looks over her notebook. He reads Trelawney’s quote. 

“This is dated October 30th,” observes Cedric with a raised eyebrow. “It’s only now you’re looking this up?”

“Yes!” answers Moira in between murmurs. “I always meant to look it up but then I never got around to it because of the mess regarding the Goblet of….” 

CANDLELIGHT! 

Moira freezes mid-speech and lets out a dumbfounded cackle. She looks to Trelawney and gives her a knowing look. Cedric wears a quizzical look on his face. 

“Tell us your thoughts, little bird,” implores Trelawney. “Don’t leave poor Cedric here in the dark.” 

“I’m lost. What’s happening?” asks Cedric. 

“‘Trust the inferno as it blazes in twain…Inferno! Blaze! Fire! Twain means two!’ It was about us! The Goblet of Fire spitting two names instead of one! It was a bloody warning!” frantically says Moira. 

She pauses in her tracks once again. It all begins to make sense in Moira’s young mind as she begins to have flashbacks. Trelawney’s excitement the night Goblet selected the Champions….The comforting smile she flashed Moira after she was selected….The Seer confirming that she knew that Moira was going to be selected as the fourth Champion….The subsequent advice… Trelawney saying “The feather does favor you indeed” after the First Task… The scolding at The Yule Ball… 

It was so obvious from the beginning. The young Ravenclaw, who prides herself on being proficient with solving riddles and outwitting all around her, suddenly feels silly for not seeing the clues that Trelawney (another Ravenclaw) has been sprinkling around her since October. The word ‘silly’, Moira feels, does not properly describe how thick she feels right now. 

“You knew all this time?!” exclaims Moira. “Why didn’t you help us?”

“But I did. I only acted on what my Inner Eye commanded me to do, which is to guide you…. Which has brought us to this point in time.” explains Trelawney. As the women talk, Cedric re-reads the quote. 

“I wouldn’t call it a warning, Moira,” says Cedric who shows his girlfriend her own notes. “Look… here… ‘…the elements work in your favor…. As does the feather.’ You turned into a crane… a bird… with feathers. Perhaps this was a… message? Is that right, Professor?” 

“That’s a more appropriate word. Thank you for the clarification, Cedric,” says Trelawney. A candle lights up in the elder Seer’s head. “Ah! That is what The Moon may well be. Clarity. And it looks as though it is immediately unfolding before our very eyes, or at least in Moira’s! But we shall let these cards and the ones from the past speak for themselves! We shall know what these cards truly mean when everything is over.” 

“So what am I, the Seer, supposed to do with all of this information?” asks Moira. “Your message and our cards clash with the dream.” 

“Your knowledge of the dream means that the vision itself may prove faulty… but there is no guarantee,” answers Trelawney. “We will only know once the happening has happened.” 

“The happening?” Cedric quizzically asks. 

“You will know it is happening when it happens. Now, I do not know who may seek your blood, but you must be careful these next few days until the Tournament ends. Let no one know of this meeting… or this dream. Moira, you must conceal your ability to See between yourself, myself, and Cedric. Cedric, you are not to tell another soul about any of this. Your very lives depend on it!” says Trelawney. 

“The three of us will not meet for a while, so I offer you both words… Not a prediction… but advice: Use your newfound knowledge to your advantage! We may not See what is going to happen next, at least not yet, but I do know that you each have the other. The Two of Cups means unity. It symbolizes equality and I believe you both already have an understanding of that. Most importantly, you must believe in yourselves, for I have seen the great things you have each achieved when you have… Imagine the possibilities that could occur if you truly brought your abilities together!” 

She brings them into a comforting group hug. “Go forth, my dear little birds!” 

They exit the North Tower. Daylight has now broken. There seems to be no other Prefect aside from Cedric, so they feel no need to sneak around the corridors. 

“Can we sit for a moment?” he politely asks. 

She nods, and they settle on a nearby bench. He shakily breathes as he is still trying to understand everything that was exchanged. 

“How are you doing?” asks Moira. 

“I don’t know….Helpless? Exhausted? Numb? It’s hard to describe… Ask me in a few hours. 

She nods and stares at the ground. He notes her lethargy. 

“H-how are you?” he asks. 

She shrugs. “Honestly? I have never felt so thick in my entire life.” 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“YES!” cracks Cedric. The sudden volume change makes Moira jump. Guilt floods his heart at the sight. “I’m so sorry…” he says in a softer voice. 

She shrugs again. “It’s alright -” 

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I just…” he sighs and rubs his eyes. “This is a lot to learn and picture in your head… but to see it…

“-Pain,” she answers. “That’s how I’m feeling. Raw pain. I….” She feels a bubbling inside of her about to erupt but she knows that Cedric is the least deserving of it. “Ask me in a few hours?”

“I will.” 

A natural silence takes place between them. It is a peaceful presence that keeps them company as the teenagers attempt to individually pull themselves together. The effort they put in somewhat eases their minds… with the word “somewhat” being the keyword. 

“What do you reckon we do now?” vulnerably asks Cedric. His rosiness is beginning to slowly return to his complexion. 

For the first time in seven months, Moira feels her nerves freeze. In the flash of a second, she remembers her year so far: outrunning terror, enduring public scrutiny and humiliation, outsmarting a dragon after dodging its flames, and fighting off grindylows (all while taking NEWT classes). She begins to wonder if she is really going to let a vision scare her. The small fighting chance she felt in the graveyard begins to enlarge into pure unadulterated tenacity. It colors her face. 

“Now,” starts Moira with growing grit in her vocals. “We win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I would like to issue another apology for any angst and tears inflicted in the reading of this chapter


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of Death. Violence is discussed.

It has been a few hours since they met with Professor Trelawney. Moira and Cedric now sit across from each other in the library. They have yet to pick up a book. 

“How are you feeling?” whisper-asks Moira, who is now properly dressed. 

“Blank.” whisper-answers Cedric. “How about you?” 

“Blank.” she replies.“This is going to be a lot… the Task I mean.” 

“Yeah… Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“Trelawney kept looking at this book and I saw that you put it in your bag. Is it a Seer book?” he asks in extremely hushed tones. 

“A book?.... Oh. No. It’s supposed to be my dream diary, like the ones we’ve kept last year.” she explains.

“Those were fun to keep and talk about,” recalls Cedric. “Is what you saw…. Is it in there?” 

She reluctantly nods. 

“Do you mind if I… look at it?” 

Moira gives him a pained look. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” she warns. 

“I can handle it.” 

“Can you?” 

“It’s not like I don’t know what happens…” 

“This... is… graphic…” 

“So it will help us… for whatever happens next…” 

“Cedric…” 

“Please… please let me look. If I can’t handle what I read, it will be my fault, not yours… please…” 

Moira removes the diary from her bag and slides it to him. Cedric opens it up and silently reads her entry. She watches his ambiguous face as he digests the information. His eyes, though dry, are filled with pure affliction. He shuts the book and slides it back to Moira. He sighs as he rubs his face.

Moira reaches for his hand. He grabs her hand. 

“I was protecting you…” Cedric shatteringly mutters. 

“And you did. Now let me protect you,” says Moira in hushed tones. “I’m not going to let this come to fruition. We know what’s coming. We can stop this… We’ll do this like we’ve done the Tasks… Together,” vows Moira in hushed tones. “We are not going to die. _You_ , Cedric Diggory, are not going to die. We will win, and we will both get out of the maze alive. I will do whatever it takes. You have my word. Alright?” 

He swallows a knot in his throat and nods. A thought occurs to Cedric. He visibly considers the thought before speaking. “It appears that everything was fine until we touched the Cup… Bagman never said it was a Portkey, did he?” 

Moira thinks back on Bagman’s briefing. She plays his words in her mind. 

_“The Third Task is really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first Champion to touch it will receive full marks.”_

She shakes her head. “He never said, but if the winner is the first to touch it, I imagine that the judges don’t expect us to run through the maze with it in hand. It’s faster to use a Portkey… and it’s more dramatic for the winner, or in our case, winners, to appear back at the start.” 

“Right… but someone had to enchant it well in advance, and the graveyard was the set destination,” explains Cedric. 

Moira lets this simmer in her head as she quietly thinks out loud. “The figures… they were waiting for us… or whoever would appear.” 

“They expected one person, not two… otherwise why would you…. ‘Kill the spare’?” he painfully muses. 

“‘Spare’ implies extra or additional to what is already provided-”

“-And there’s four competitors instead of three… which no one anticipated.” 

A candle lights up in Moira’s mind. “Do you remember when my brother asked us all of those questions? I think he was onto something but he’ll never say...” 

“Perhaps it’s somehow connected,” guesses Cedric as a candle lights up in his head as well. “Four Champions… Two Hogwarts co-Champions...both tied-” 

“-Both get a head start into the maze. We go in at the same time, then Viktor, then Fleur,” adds Moira. “We have extra time, and though Bagman says it’s equal, we’re far more likely to reach the center first. Between you and I… it’s a matter of speed.” 

“Exactly, but the figure expected one of us and got both of us instead… So it kills me… and takes you… but I was in front... and I was threatening them.... so it would make sense to kill whoever appears to be the stronger person and prey on the weaker one…. They probably would have killed you first had you been in front of me.” reasons Cedric. 

“Either way, someone is trying to kill at least one of us,” deduces Moira. “And the Cup is a bloody trap.” 

“Question is… who would want one of us killed?” adds Cedric. 

“Someone who would be quite cross to see us both alive once the Third Task is over.” 

“Particularly if we both came out of the maze holding the Cup.” 

Moira lets out a smirk. “You sound like a Ravenclaw right now.”

Cedric smirks back. “I’ve only learned from the best. We should study Portkeys.” 

“I’ve got a better plan: Let’s get the books, split the borrowing between us, and meet up on the seventh floor.” 

Moira gets up first and wanders into the Charms section, where she finds about four books on Portkeys. As the Ministry of Magic tends to be somewhat territorial when it comes to these types of spells, the books on the subject are limited, but she decides to do the best that they can with their resources. She grabs two of these books but rigs the other two so that Cedric can easily spot them. Moira returns back to the table, quietly collects her belongings, checks out the books, and exits the library. 

Cedric looks at his watch and gives himself about fifteen minutes after Moira’s exit to look as though he is studying for another class. Once that duration passes by, he quietly gets up, walks into the Charms section, notices the rigged Portkey books, grabs them, checks them out, gathers his own belongings, and heads straight to their regular meeting spot on the seventh floor. There, he sees that the room has transformed into a cozier version of the library. 

“This room changes every single time we enter and exit it...” remarks Cedric. “Or do I need to go back to bed?” 

“No, I’ve noticed as well… but it seems to always help us…” says Moira as she returns to reading. Cedric joins at the table she is spotted in. 

“Found anything so far?” 

“Well, I found the incantation for it, but that’s the simplest part.” 

“What’s the harder part?” 

“Let me read this part again to make sure I understand it properly.” 

Cedric’s blinks communicate “Oh dear” as she obviously repeats reading a specific part of her book numerous times. She places the book down. 

“So...the incantation is Portus… pronounced POR-tus.” Moira begins to explain. 

“‘To carry’,” Cedric translates. His quick translation is the result of learning the meanings of spells before properly memorizing them. 

“But you can’t just say it, you have to think about the details of the Portkey as you say it. The intended destination… the return destination… whether it’s single-use or multiple-use Portkey… if it’s time-activated or touch-activated or both….and if it’s general use or if it is limited to certain individuals.” she continues to explain. 

“This only proves that what happened in your vision was calculated,” he says. “Now we just need to be as deliberate as this person is.” 

“We need to practice creating Portkeys. And continue practicing everything else.” she strongly suggests.

“Let’s try one right now,” Cedric says as he looks around the room for an object. He finds a bookshelf filled with various objects. He picks up a small black pebble and places it on their table, he pulls out his wand. “What’s the wand movement?” 

Moira flips through several pages. “It doesn’t say. When in doubt, simply point?” 

He shrugs. He points at the pebble. “ _Portus_!” 

The pebble emits a blue glow for a few seconds before it returns to its natural black color. 

“I think it worked. Let me-” He picks up the pebble. Moira lets out a yelp and watches him swirl into disappearance. Of course, she has no idea where he went. 

The door opens, and Cedric renters the room with the pebble in his hand. He places it back on the table. “I pictured going just outside the door for a single-use… it appears to have worked.”

Moira gets up and looks at the self of objects. She picks out an empty jar and places it on the table. She forces herself to clear her mind and imagines appearing in the Ravenclaw girls lavatory, touching it again and reappearing back in her current location as she says “ _Portus_!” 

The jar lets out the same glow. She grabs it and proceeds to swirl about. She vanishes before Cedric’s eyes. 

She stumbles on the hard ground… which feels a lot like… tile? She gets up and looks around her. She recognizes the sinks, the mirrors, and the showers. She lets out a soft chuckle before she looks for the jar, which is rolling towards a stall, Moira grabs it and feels lifted again. She returns back to the room and makes Cedric slightly jumpy. 

“It works… but we’ll have to be solely focused on the Cup. Which means we’ll have to get over whatever exhaustion or danger happens,” says Moira. “Should we keep practicing and reading or should we continue where we left off?”

For the next seven days, the Hogwarts co-Champions’ routines are at its most intense: Breakfast, Class, Homework at the Library, Lunch, Class, Dinner, Offensive and Defensive Practice, Portkey Study and Practice, Bed, Repeat. No one really sees the Champions and no one tries to get in their way, which makes life (slightly) easier for the couple. 

“I’ve an idea,” says Moira as she grabs a drinking cup from the shelf of objects. “Let’s try creating a Portkey together.” 

“I haven’t read a single mention of multiple people creating a single Portkey anywhere,” mentions Cedric as he reads through his notes. “But we could give it a try. Where should we go?” 

“Prefects’ Bathroom. There and back.” 

He nods as she places the cup on the table. They raise their wands. “ _Portus_!” 

The cup glows and quivers, which they have seen happen with a few objects they’ve enchanted. Before they reach for the object, Cedric notices that the cup is vibrating to the point that it is beginning to move around the table. This sends multiple alarms into his mind. “Get down!” he cries as the cup begins to move around the table as a result of its shaking. He ducks down and hovers over his girlfriend as they hear it explode and send several small projectiles throughout the room. After cleaning up the mess, they decide to go to bed. 

As Moira enters the girls’ dormitory, she can’t help but feel silly and reckless for enabling that disaster. She wants to keep her word to Cedric… but then she remembers how battered he was at the beginning of her vision… and assumes that she might have been in a similar state. A candle lights up in her mind, which drives her to sneak back into the owlery and send a message to Cedric to meet her in the practice room the following morning. 

He receives the message after being awakened by an owl. He quietly sneaks into the practice room and sees Moira seated on the ground where she has pieces of parchment scattered all over the floor. He quietly joins her as she visibly reconciles the papers. 

“Moira… did you get any sleep?” asks Cedric. 

“No… I’m sorry about last night. That was stupid of me to suggest that…. We were lucky that the Portkey from last night was small. Several centimeters bigger, and we would be in the Hospital Wing this morning. I don’t want the Triwizard Cup to explode on us But if it does, we don’t know if it comes with a curse… or a jinx… or worse. And since we don’t know what we’re going to encounter before we make it to the center… I want to be proactive. With that in mind, I… have been working… on a spell for us...” explains Moira. 

“What is the incantation?” he asks. 

“Protego Corpus,” she says whimsically. 

“‘I protect… the body’.” he translates. 

“Exactly! Like the Shield Charm but for the whole body. Ideally, it should keep the effects of hexes and jinxes to a minimum! Hopefully curses too… However, I don’t think I can stop Unforgivable Curses.”

“How are you pronouncing it? I only ask because it’ll help with the potency.” 

She shows him a sheet of pronunciations she’s recorded down. He reads through it. 

“I wrote a few variations down… but I want it to be something you say quickly with stumbling… I think this last one might work. It works well on the lips.” she explains. 

“Based on your wand pattern notes, it may be easier to perform this on someone else. There’s nothing wrong with that… unless you want this to also be self-inflicted… But that just seems rather complicated.” 

Cedric becomes fixated on her wand movement diagram. He imitates the motions with his index figure and experiments with different speeds. “You don’t want to do this slowly… but not fast…” 

“It has to be intentional. You have to mean it,” she adds. They continue to read through her notes. 

“Why don’t you try it on me and see how it goes?” proposes Cedric. 

“Are you sure about this?” hesitatingly asks Moira. 

“Absolutely. I trust you.” 

“Fair enough...Do you mind if I stun you?” 

“Not at all.” 

They get up. Moira adds pillow pads behind him to lessen the blow of his fall.

“Don’t worry about me. Just breathe. Think of nothing but the spell and go for it.” 

Moira points her wand at the top of his head as she circles his body in a counterclockwise direction and stops at the top of his head as she says “ _Protego_ …”

She points her wand straight down to his navel as she says “... _Corpus_ ”. A red spark shoots from the tip of her wand and goes through his abdomen. The sparks spread through his body and leave a glow under his skin, which fades after a few seconds. 

“How do you feel?” she asks. 

“It’s ticklish.” 

“Good…. Ready to be stunned?” 

He nods. 

“ _Stupefy_!”

Cedric is knocked down and lands on the pillow pads. He lets out a groan. Moira peers over him. “Hmm. You’re still awake.” 

“Yes, but it feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach.” he groans. Moira pulls him up. There’s a slight struggle as he’s taller and heavier than she is. He gets up as she pulls him, which makes the process slightly easier for her. 

“Try walking around,” she suggests. He maintains his typical gait. 

“How do you feel now?” she asks as she watches. 

“I feel better.” He observes. 

“Try it on me,” says Moira as she now stands in front of the pillow pads. 

“Would you like me to stun you or-” 

“Let’s experiment, curse this time… how about the Full Body-Bind?”

“Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes. I trust you, too. And if it goes wrong, you can counter it.” 

“If you say so…” Cedric says as he lifts up his wand. “PRO-teh-goh KOR-pus?” 

“pro-TEH-goh kor-PUS.” 

“Right. _Protego Corpus_!” 

Moira feels a tingling sensation enter through her belly button and spread through her entire body. Cedric doesn’t see a red glow on her, but she has goosebumps, which they both take as a signal that it worked. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Ready,” she responds. 

“ _Petrificus Totalus_!” 

A strong wind from Cedric’s wand shoves Moira onto the pillow pads.

“Moira! Are you alright?” worriedly asks Cedric. 

She groans and nods. He helps her up and she walks off what feels like sore muscles. 

“How long is the spell supposed to last?” he asks as he watches her walk.

“I would say a few hours… or at least long enough to get through the maze.” she estimates. “What do you think?”

“I think this is a smart spell… a brilliant idea! Your other idea, however, of two people creating a singular Portkey at the same time, is not,” remarks Cedric with a smile. 

“No, that wasn’t smart… it was worth a try, wasn’t it?” reflects Moira as she lets out a yawn. 

Cedric nods as he checks his watch and he looks at Moira. “We shouldn’t practice after dinner tonight.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why not?” 

“Because the Task is tomorrow night… and you need to get some sleep. ” 


	20. Chapter 20

June 24th, 1995.

Moira wakes up to confetti and fanfare all over her dorm room. 

“Today’s the big day, Champion!” screams Cho as she leads the other girls in cheer. 

“Good morning to you all as well.” greets Moira as she sits up in her bed. 

“How are you feeling?” asks Cho. 

Moira takes a moment to check in with herself. Physically, she’s still waking up. Psychologically, she’s scattered. Emotionally, she’s been suppressing her anxieties since that uneventful night with the vision. She hasn’t told a soul about her Seeing abilities, let alone what she was forced to bear witness to. 

“I feel… great.” lies Moira. 

“Yay! Go get ready! We’re meeting with Roger, Sal, and Ced for breakfast!” 

After cleaning up and putting on her uniform, Cho and Roger (who have been semi-awkward with each other since she started dating Harry Potter after The Yule Ball) parade her across the castle as they make their way to the Great Hall, where everyone is undoubtedly buzzing about the Third Task, which is happening in the evening. 

Salvia and Cedric are already seated at one of the ends of the Hufflepuff table. They all sit together and indulge in their breakfast. 

“Make sure you both eat loads today! You’re both going to need the strength for tonight!” advises Salvia as all five of them indulge in the breakfast feast. 

“But don’t make yourselves sick either!” adds Cho. 

Owls fly with new issues of the _Daily Prophet_ and drop copies all over the tables. Roger, who prefers to not speak before he finishes his tea, opens up his freshly delivered copy. His eyes widen in shock and he chokes on his tea. “NO BLOODY WAY!” 

Salvia looks over from his left, “Oh dear, me.” 

Cho looks over from his right, “Oh no.” 

The chorus raises alarms within Moira and Cedric, who are both simmering in anguish due to their double-Task: Winning the Triwizard Tournament and surviving the Triwizard Tournament. 

“What’s wrong?” asks Cedric.

Roger turns the paper around and reveals the headline: 

_HARRY POTTER_

_“DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS”_

Moira grabs the paper and orients it in front of her and Cedric. They begin to read the article in depth: 

_The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter’s strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to attend Hogwarts School._

_Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (a relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying._

_It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter’s brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion._

_“He might even be pretending,” said one specialist. “This could be a plea for attention.”_

_The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the Wizarding Public._

_“Potter can speak Parseltongue,” reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. “There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he’s made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he’d do anything for a bit of power and attention, especially since he hasn’t had any this year.”_

_Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue “as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers. Similarly, “anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence.”_

_Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to mingle amongst other students at Hogwarts. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to recapture attention for himself that has been lost to the Hogwarts co-Champions, Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory, who compete in their Third and Final Task this evening._

“Did she seriously have to drag us into her rubbish?” laments Cedric as he folds the paper in displeasure. 

“None of it is true! Harry is not mad!” argues Cho. “It’s disrespectful to the both of you and to Harry to publish this article! Especially today!” 

The group looks around them to see several of the Slytherins laughing at Harry and his friends, who sit at the Gryffindor table. 

“I better go check on him,” Cho says as she gets up. “Cedric, Moira, if I don’t see either of you later… good luck! I’ll see you all later.” 

The co-Champions thank her as Cho joins Harry, who has obviously read the article. Moira, who has gone silent again, takes a gulp of her pumpkin juice as she mulls over the article. “He let that article be published.” 

“What? Your dad?” asks Roger. “I thought that your family didn’t get a say in the editing.” 

“Usually, yes, but when it’s something this explosive… he gets the final say… and he let them publish it,” explains Moira. “Like that article about the first Task.” 

“It was headline-worthy,” notes Roger. 

“Do you not remember what she said about you, Roger?” asks Moira, “You’re ‘The Playboy Amongst Champions’... and Fleur was only mentioned in that article because of you. The only reason why Viktor had his own article was because of his thing with Hermione Granger… ‘The White-Winged Crane’ was probably her way of trying to suckle up to my parents…” 

“And Cedric is ‘Mr. Moira Crane’,” adds Salvia, “I still remember that dastardly article Skeeter wrote about you two back in November… Do you think your dad approved that article? ”

Before Moira can answer that question, Flitwick approaches the Ravenclaw table. “The Champions are congregating in The Chamber of Reception after breakfast. As you may well know, your families have been invited to watch the Final Task. You each get to greet and spend the day with them before the Task tonight.” 

Moira politely thanks Flitwick but she mentally shudders at the thought of seeing her parents right now, especially her dad. Not too long after that, Salvia and Roger run off to class. Moira and Cedric finish their breakfast. They get up and join Fleur and Viktor, who has also just gotten up. They open the doors to The Chamber of Reception. The four families - the Cranes, the Diggorys, the Krums, and the Delacours, explode with excitement. Moira watches as Cedric is immediately embraced by Mr. and Mrs. Diggory. She also spots a lively Viktor speaking in Bulgarian with his parents and Fleur animatedly speaking in French with her mother and sister. 

“Moira! Darling!” calls out Mrs. Crane as she hugs her daughter first. Mr. Crane, who is standing just behind her, hugs his daughter next. Behind her parents are Angelica and Bryn, both of whom sport gold omnioculars around their necks. 

“We’re all matching!” exclaims Moira as she pulls out her own gold omnioculars. 

“It was my idea!” says Angelica as she hugs her sister. 

“Which I paid for,” adds Bryn as he takes his turn to hug Moira. 

“I thought it’d be a great way to commemorate you being in the Tournament!” explains Angelica. 

“I do admit that it is a good investment… and a really posh one too,” adds Bryn. 

“You managed to get out of Unspeakable work!” remarks Moira. 

“Having a famous sister gets you out of anything,” shrugs Bryn. 

“Ah! Moira!” says Mr. Diggory, which prompts the Crane family to turn, “We were surprised to hear that there was a fourth Champion…

“- But we’re excited nonetheless that it was you.” genuinely adds Mrs. Diggory. 

“Exactly! Our two children, side by side, representing our school and country! And both doing an exceptional job so far!” says Mrs. Crane. 

“Yes… Let’s hope tonight’s coverage of the event is as fair as you are.” continues Mr. Diggory. 

“Of course! But whoever wins… wins,” replies Mr. Crane. 

The mothers let out a diffusive chuckle. The fathers join in, but the laugh Mr. Crane and Mr. Diggory let out radiate passive-aggression.

“I’m so sorry,” mouths Cedric. Moira shrugs it off. The laughter dies down after a few seconds. 

“Cedric! Why don’t you show us around?” suggests Mrs. Diggory as she senses another comment leaving her husband’s mouth. 

“I’ll see you later… Nice to see you all again.” Cedric quickly says as to Moira and her family as he exits with his family.

“Moira, why don’t you show us around as well?” suggests Mrs. Crane. 

“Yeah, give me an upper hand over my future classmates!” insists Angelica. 

Moira gives them a tour of the school. The Cranes sneak into the Astronomy Tower (fun fact: Mr. and Mrs. Crane fell in love while taking this class as an elective). Angelica is blown away by the tower. 

“Whoa! Could I go inside?” asks Angelica. 

Moira nods. Mr. and Mrs. Crane follow Angelica as she wanders around the tower. 

Instead of following, the elder Crane siblings walk closer to the tower entrance, far away from their sister and parents. 

“Did you read the article this morning?” asks Moira. 

“I did,” says Bryn. 

“Do you think that Dad -” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Do you think it has any validity to it?” 

“I don’t know. It’s Skeeter.” 

“But it’s also Potter. Strange things have taken place here since he arrived.”

“So I’ve heard… but nothing’s happened this year, has there?” 

She shrugs. “No… just the Tournament.” 

“Speaking of which, I have news for you,” states Bryn. “It’s about the chat we had.” 

“What is it?” asks Moira. 

“I can’t say now… And I prefer to have you and Cedric to hear it at the same time.” 

“Is it bad?” 

He doesn’t respond. Butterflies flap their wings inside Moira. 

“Bryn! Is it bad?” 

“It can wait. Just… Forget I said anything until after the Task is over.” 

The Cranes go to the Great Hall for lunch and continue walking around the castle grounds for more personal anecdotes and tips for Angelica. They return back to the Hall for the evening feast. They sit at the Ravenclaw table and see the Diggorys seated at the Hufflepuff table. Moira sees the Bagman has joined the staff table. Next to him is… 

“Is that Cornelius Fudge?” asks Moira. 

“Yep! He’s filling in for Crouch, the poor chap,” replies Mrs. Crane. 

“What happened to him anyway?” she asks, “Isn’t he sick?”

“Don’t know… but I will say that Fudge is quite excited to see you in action!” explains Mr. Crane, who seemingly cuts off Bryn. 

“Moira isn’t the only person competing.” reminds Angelica. 

‘No, but she’s the only one whose parents are good friends with Fudge… isn’t that right, Dad?” says Bryn with a slightly snarky tone. 

“There’s nothing wrong with making friends with powerful people.” fires back Mr. Crane. 

“Right… because the _Prophet_ doesn’t inflict enough damage on its own.” taunts Bryn. 

The Crane men shoot each other nasty looks. Mrs. Crane places a hand on her husband’s fist, which shakes in irritation. 

“Will the both of you stop it!” pleads Mrs. Crane in a hushed tone. “This is not about either you or the paper! Tonight is about Moira… who can’t afford any more stress… so why don’t we focus on her tonight and fight about the paper tomorrow?” 

The conversation is halted, the family shifts its focus onto the numerous courses and their little Champion, whose nerves begin to increase by the hour. 

“Make sure you’re properly hydrated and fueled. I imagine this last Task is going to require everything you’ve got,” says Mrs. Crane. 

“Mum… you’ve got no idea,” replies Moira. 

As dusk begins to settle in the enchanted ceiling above them, Dumbledore rises from his seat. Everyone is instantly silenced. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, in ten minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the Third and Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the Champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now?” 

Moira gets up. She receives a hug from each of her parents, Bryn, and Angelica. 

“Don’t let _it_ confuse you,” whispers Angelica. Moira doesn’t react and maintains her smile as everyone is now watching her. 

“It?-” 

“Yes, it. You’ll have to act quickly! Now go!” 

Letting go of the hug, Moira nods at her sister. Roger and Cho wish her good luck along with the rest of the Ravenclaws as the entire table sends her off with applause. Moira leaves the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor. 

They take the Quidditch players’ entrance to the field. Cedric and Viktor enter the locker room on the left, and Moira and Fleur enter the locker room on the right. Fleur and Moira spot their uniforms. The Beauxbatons Champion appears to have a cute matching light tracksuit with running shoes. Moira on the other hand has a blue and black long-sleeved athleisure shirt with black track pants and similar shoes they’ve worn in the First Task. The shirt has “CRANE” written in red with an accompanying star at the back. After changing, Moira quickly splits her hair into two and braids it into two cornrows. 

Once she finishes her hairstyle, Moira gives herself a long stare into the mirror as she tries to psyche herself up. She begs herself not to crack… at least not yet. The World tarot card flashes in her head. She contemplates what it might have meant… Completion? Finality? The End? Which End? 

Moira leaves the locker room first and walks down the corridor. She spots her co-Champion. The vision begins to feel a little too real for Moira as she sees Cedric’s outfit… the same exact black and yellow shirt with the track pants… which he wore in her vision. 

“Let’s go to one of the other locker rooms,” he suggests. They sneak into the Hufflepuff locker room.

“How are you feeling?” asks Moira. 

“...Scared, ” he confesses, “How about you?” 

“About the same…” 

Shaking off the growing nervousness inside of her, Moira pulls out her wand and points it at Cedric. She waves it as she whispers “ _Protego Corpus_ …”

The red glow reappears on his skin. 

Cedric pulls out his wand and does the same. “ _Protego Corpus_ …”

She gets goosebumps. 

“We get in, we run like hell, we get to the Cup, do the enchantment, and get the hell out of there,” orders Moira. “If you get there before I do…” 

“I won’t touch the Cup.” finishes Cedric. 

“Exactly.” 

They nervously nod at each other before breaking into the tightest hug they have ever given or felt. 

“There’s only one outcome I’m accepting,” she mutters. “One outcome…” 

“One outcome,” he mutters back. 

“I love you,” Moira says after a few seconds. 

“I love you too,” Cedric says back. 

They enjoy the silence as they breathe in sync. It only lasts a few seconds, but they wish they can stay like this forever. The quietude is broken by the sounds of crowds screaming as they enter the stands. The vibrations are slightly felt by the couple. 

“Champions! It’s time!” yells Bagman, who is in the other room. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Not Canon Compliant. Spoilers for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (novel and film). Scenes of Terror, Panic, and Distress. Injuries, Bruises, and Blood. Swearing.

“The Hogwarts March’’, a school celebratory tune, begins to play as Dumbledore accompanies Moira and Cedric from the locker room to the Quidditch pitch. Professor Karkaroff follows behind with Victor and Madame Maxime follows behind with Fleur. 

The student bodies of the three schools, the Hogwarts staff, Minister Fudge, the Crane family, the Diggory family, the Krum family, and the Delacour family, break into joyful cheer and applause. As they all line up and wave at the crowds. Bagman enters and points his wand at his throat as he mutters “ _Sonorus_ ,” and his voice begins to amplify. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Third and Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each - Miss Moira Crane and Mr. Cedric Diggory, both of Hogwarts School!” 

The Hogwarts Students applaud and cheer. 

“..In second place, with seventy-five points - Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” 

A round of applause from Durmstrang Institute. 

“And in third place - Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!” 

A round of applause of Beauxbatons. 

“For tonight’s Task, the Triwizard Cup has been placed somewhere within this maze and the Champions must find it, but not without a few obstacles along the way! Miss Crane and Mr. Diggory will enter first, followed by Mr. Krum, then Miss Delacour, but whoever touches the Cup first, wins!” 

Everyone screams in excitement. 

“Champions, gather around. Quickly!” loudly requests Dumbledore. The Champions huddle around him. 

“In the maze, you’ll find no dragons or creatures of the deep. Instead, you’ll face something even more challenging.” Dumbledore warns in a hushed tone. “People change in the maze. Find the Cup if you can, but be very wary. You could just lose yourselves along the way.” 

Moira and Cedric exchange uncomfortable facial expressions. Moira feels as though Dumbledore knows something that they don’t… though she suspects that it is a very different “something”. 

“Champions! Prepare yourselves!” he tells the Champions with a louder voice. Before they can scatter, Professor McGonagall, along with Hagrid, Professor Moody, and Professor Flitwick approach the teenagers. Each sport red luminous stars on either their pointed hats, except for Hagrid, who sports one on his vest. 

“We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze,” Professor McGonagall explains to the Champions. “If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?” 

The Champions nod. “Off you go, then!” Bagman excitedly says to everyone as they begin to scatter. 

Moira and Cedric position themselves in front of two maze entrances. The two turn to each other and give a competitive nod with stern expressions. The exchange is something they’ve done during Quidditch season in a typical year at Hogwarts. This is not a typical situation, but the context calls for it. The cannon goes off. The hedges open and they sprint inside. 

As they begin their respective treks, the Hogwarts March slowly fades into the distance. The maze is dark and foggy. She can barely see anything. She stops before she crashes into anything… or anyone. “ _Lumos…_ ” she whispers. Her wand provides her light, which helps her decipher the paths. She finds herself in a fork. She shrugs and takes the left path. The hedges are now over thirty feet tall, which makes the maze feel like a prison more than an obstacle course. If she is going to be entirely honest, she has no idea what she’s doing. She wanders around and hits three dead ends, which begins to frustrate her. The canon for Viktor goes off, making Moira make another turn. She assumes that she selected wisely as the turn gives way to multiple paths. She soon hears Fleur’s canon. 

A green fog glistens and forms into a skull with a snake flying out of its mouth. It lashes out at Moira. 

Her heart stops for a brief moment… until she realizes that there’s no way in Merlin’s bear that anyone would have causally conjured The Dark Mark… there’s only one thing it could be. 

“ _Riddikulus_!” she screams, and the Boggart turns into a marionette. Its dancing makes Moira chuckle and the Bogart disappears.

Echoes of a scream make Moira jump. It sounds rather high pitched. There is only one person that the scream could belong to. 

“Fleur?” shouts Moira. “Fleur?” 

Her question ripples in the air. She gets no response, but red sparks are sent into the air within seconds. One Champion down, three to go. Several hedges behind her begin to close and a mysterious wind hisses, propelling her to move forward in a panic. She barely escapes the closing of the hedges and begins to run as she looks around her and commits to paths within the maze. A familiar voice forces her to halt and eavesdrop. 

“What are you doing?” yells Cedric’s voice from the lane on her right.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks again.

“ _Crucio_!” screams Viktor’s voice. 

Cedric lets out a series of tormenting screams that echo through the maze. Moira’s blood increases its flow through her system and her breathing aggressively increases as she looks for her next turn. “Fuck it,” she mutters as she points her wand at the hedge separating her from the guys. 

“ _BOMBARDA MAXIMA_!” yells Moira. 

The hedge explodes and reveals Viktor Krum generously casting the Cruciatus Curse onto Cedric, who is squirming on the ground while continuously screaming in pain. “ _Expelliarmus_!” she shouts. 

Viktor’s wand flies out of his hand. He turns his gaze upon her. Moira sees with the light of her wand that his eyes are a stony blue… which is beautiful, but his eyes are typically brown. He charges towards her. 

Not wanting to know what he has in mind for her, Moira points her wand towards him and says “ _Stupefy_!” 

A stunned Viktor is knocked unconscious to the ground. Moira helps a trembling Cedric up. He tries to lunge at Viktor, but Moira blocks him. 

“He’s down! He’s down!” says Moira as she struggles against blocking him. “Cedric! Cedric! Look at me!” 

He does as he pants from enduring the Curse. She brings her miserable partner into a hug who shakily grasps her. 

“He’s out… He can’t hurt you now…. It’s over…” she says. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah… yeah…” he whimpers, “I don’t believe it… he crept up behind me. I heard him, I turned around and he had his wand on me…” 

“He can’t hurt you anymore… It’s over…” she reassures him. After about a minute, they let go. 

“Did you hear Fleur?” she softly asks. 

“Yeah… You think Krum got her?” 

“It’s likely…” Moira notices Cedric’s smoking sleeve. “What happened to your sleeve?” 

“There’s a Blast-Ended Skrewt wandering around the maze.” 

“Ah. So we probably shouldn’t leave Viktor here then.” 

“As much as he’d deserve it, no,” Cedric mutters as he raises his wand and sends up red sparks for him.”

“Let’s keep going,” urges Moira as they hear the wind hissing. They opt to take the path Moira was on before the scuffle. 

“It’s just us now?” he cautiously asks. 

“I saw Fleur’s spark. The Cup… it’s ours,” she realizes as she surreally looks around her. This feels like the beginning of her vision… but she reminds herself that this is different now… she knows what’s coming. They both do. 

A golden mist floats towards them. The couple points their illuminated wands at the enchanted mist. 

“ _Reducto_!” says Moira, who then instantly remembers that the curse only works for solid objects. 

“ _Depulso_!’ tries Cedric. The spell also shoots straight through the fog. They look at each other, shrug, hold their breaths, and advance through the mist. They are both lifted off of their feet and turned upside down. Their gazes shift chaotically as this happens. It turns them upwards and spins them around until the mist violently casts the co-Champions onto the dirt. 

Moira and Cedric try to get up, but they become so dizzy that it takes them about two minutes to reorient themselves before finally getting up. Moira feels her face and body throb and figures that it’s going to leave a few bruises for a while. Looks like her spell is of no use in the maze. 

The limp through the next few turns in silence, only talking when they have to agree on a path. That is until… 

“Good evening.” greets a woman’s voice. 

The Champions’ heart rate jumps as they point their wands. As their vision clears, they begin to see a female human’s head… on a lion’s body, a sphinx… 

“Hi.” says a fascinated but nervous Moira. 

“Hello there.” calmly responds Cedric. 

“You are both very near your goal. The quickest way is past me…” explains the sphinx. “But only if you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess - I let you pass. Answer wrongly - I attack. Remain silent - I will let you both walk away from me unscathed.”

Moira nods as she realizes that it’s her time to shine. “May we hear the riddle please?’

The sphinx sits down and recites: 

“First think of the person who lives in disguise, 

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies. 

Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend, 

The middle of the middle and end of the end?

And finally, give me the sound often heard 

During the search for a hard-to-find word. 

Now string them together, and answer me this, 

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?” 

Moira goes into a deep calculative headspace “A… a spy?…. A spy! Er…” 

Cedric interrupts her thinking “Er! We make the sound ‘er’…Right… Spy-er…Spy-er… Spy-er…” he repeats to himself. 

Moira makes her concentration face. She mumbles to herself but her mind isn’t working as effectively as she hopes right now. “Last thing to mend… Middle of middle and end of the end?” 

Her mind forms into a knot. 

“Creature unwilling to kiss? Spy…er? Spy-d… A spider! A SPIDER!” Cedric says to the sphinx. The creature smiles and moves aside to let them pass. “Good luck!” 

The Champions thank her. They spot the Cup at the end of their path. Somewhat recovered from the mist, they begin to run, but something grabs onto Moira, causing her to fall. Her wand flies out of her hand in the process.

“CEDRIC!” she screams. He turns around and runs back towards her but he is ambushed by a large spider that has jumped from the left hedge. He yells “ _Stupefy_!” several times, but the spider begins to latch on his legs as he struggles with his wand. His face is also scratched up in the process. He lets out an excruciating scream. 

Spotting her wand several feet away, Moira tries to summon it, but the vines yank her arms back to her sides as it begins to form a cocoon around her. She squirms but the vines only tighten. She can’t tell if the vines are wrapping themselves around her neck, or if it’s sheer panic, but she is struggling to breathe. She smells a perfume scent and her eyelids begin to feel heavy… and then black. 

Meanwhile, a candle lights up in Cedric’s mind. “ _Expelliarmus_!” he shouts. The spider lets him go. “ _Depulso_!” The spider is flung several feet away but proceeds to crawl towards him. “ _Stupefy_!” The spider collapses. He gets up and whines in pain as he realizes that his thighs are now bleeding through his torn track pants. There’s a thick secretion accompanying the blood. 

Cedric now shifts his focus to Moira, who is unconscious. The vines are beginning to cover her face. 

He hurriedly limps over to the cocoon, aims for the vines, and yells “ _Emancipare_!” The vines immediately uncoil and return back to the hedges. This leaves various cuts around her body. He hovers over her body.

“Moira?” 

She doesn’t respond. 

“Moira?” 

No response again. He gently shakes her. 

“MOIRA!” 

His face begins to pale as he checks for her pulse. She sees that her chest is still rising. He scrambles for a spell and has a brief flashback of Dumbledore’s wand work with Bagman. 

“ _Rennervate_!” 

Moira’s eyes open up. As the perfume scent is trapped in her mouth, she coughs and sticks her tongue out in disgust. The pain of the cuts begins to catch up with her. She groans. 

“I’m not dead am I?” she confusedly asks as she looks up and sees the moon mockingly shining upon them. 

“Not yet,” he says as he blocks the moon. He helps her up. Both Champions painfully hiss as they move. He pulls her into a hug. 

“You’re bleeding… and you’re all battered up,” she observes.

“So are you,” he says. 

“ _Accio_ wand…” she mutters and the wand is finally back in her shaking hands. 

The cut-up and bruised up couple share a half-smile before turning their attention back to the Cup. Holding onto each other, they stumble to the Cup. Moira contemplates having them both lean upon the hedge, but she’s too paranoid to act on the thought. Instead, they continue to lean onto each other as they look upon the Triwizard Cup… their only way out of this hellscape… but also their current vessel of doom. 

“ _Portus_!” yells an exhausted Moira. 

The Triwizard Cup emits an orange glow. 

“That’s strange,” remarks Cedric as he examines it. 

“Do not touch that Cup!” she warns. 

The Cup spits out orange sparks. The co-Champions back away in fear of what the sparks could bring. They think in silence while watching the Cup. 

“Oh no…Oh Merlin… How did we forget that part?” he says as something pops up in his head. 

“What did we forget?” she asks with a panicky tone. 

“It was already a Portkey,” remembers Cedric. 

A wave of both stupidity and panic floods her mind. “FUCK!” screams Moira as she grabs the back of her head in frustration. Her swearing echoes through the maze as she begins to pace around the Cup. 

“Moira -” begins Cedric.

“-I’m getting us out of here! Just let me think!” blindly snaps Moira. 

“I’m trying to help both of us by helping you! ” defensively fires back Cedric. 

A stain of guilt pangs her heart. “I’m sorry… You didn’t deserve that…” She tries to dry up the wave in her mind. “You were going to say something before I interrupted… What were you going to say?” 

“I don’t remember reading anything about Counter-charms for Portkeys,” explains Cedric in a more collected tone, “But I do know that they’re deactivated once they’re used… but obviously we can’t use it. Not unless we somehow- ” 

CANDLELIGHT!

“-Trick it?” blurts out Moira. 

“Yes!” validates Cedric. 

The couple laughs maniacally, but the winds begin to hiss and thrash at them. Thunder begins to clap in the clouds above them. They begin to fight against the wind as Moira directs her wand towards the Cup. 

“ _Confundo_!” shouts Moira over the howling wind. The Triwizard Cup expels blue sparks and becomes lackluster. She looks to him. 

“I think it’s working! Do it now!” urges Cedric. 

Despite the storm around them, Moira fixates her eyes on the Cup as she envisions the Quidditch pitch. “ _Portus_!” she screams with all of her might as she points with her wand. The Cup emits a new blue glow for a few seconds before returning to its original color. 

“Ready?” yells Moira. 

“Ready!

“One!” she begins to count. 

“Two!” he counts. 

“ _Three_!” they yell as they grab the Cup at the same exact time. The Portkey’s pull is particularly violent. Both teenagers let out an adrenaline-fueled scream as they swirl into vanishment. 

With a second, the Hogwarts co-Champions slam onto the ground and unclench the Triwizard Cup. Moira and Cedric lift their heads up and look at each other. They see grass beneath them. Their concentration is broken by “The Hogwarts March” which begins to play as the crowd breaks into a rapturous cheer and applause. In their own unique process, the injured couple gets up and looks around the stands. Everything and everyone around them is overly-colored. It feels as though this is all a lucid dream. 

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are losing their minds. Salvia, Roger, and Cho are jumping up and down. The Cranes and the Diggorys tearing up and hugging each other. Most of the judges are beaming. Viktor and Fleur, both frazzled, break out into a smile. 

When Moira and Cedric look back at each other, it registers in their mind that this is reality… this is their outcome… Their one and only outcome. Competing with the crowds and the music, Bagman screams at the top of his lungs: 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you…the winners of the Triwizard Tournament - Miss Moira Crane and Mr. Cedric Diggory of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” 

Despite the bleeding, the bruises, the exhaustion, and the muscle soreness, Moira and Cedric manage to grab onto each other’s hands. They raise them in the air as the roars from the stands deafen them and the flashing lights blind them. 

“The Hogwarts March”, of course, plays on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Surprise!


	22. Chapter 22

The winners of the Triwizard Tournament, Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory, are immediately rushed to the Hospital Wing at the insistence of Madame Pomfrey. As the couple describes their encounters with the Blast-Ended Skrwerts, the Cruciatus Curse, the golden mist, the hedge vines, and the gigantic spider, Pomfrey immediately bandages up the pair and insists that they lie down while she runs to her inventory downstairs. 

The couple can hear the fanfare and music from outside, which prematurely stops. 

“You think Dumbledore silenced everyone again?” 

“Wouldn’t we have heard his voice?” 

They lean towards the window but hear nothing. Footsteps and delirious speech pass by the Hospital Wing. The couple gets up from their beds to eavesdrop. 

“Harry! What happened, Harry?” 

“I got up at the stands to use the lavatory… and I saw a sock that I gave to Dobby… I knew it was the one I gave him so I was going to give it back to him so I picked it up… It was a Portkey… Took me to a graveyard… and Voldemort was there… Lord Voldemort…”

The couple looks at each other with raised eyebrows. 

“That sounds like Potter and Moody,” observes Cedric. 

“Yes… talking about You-Know-Who….At a graveyard… today….” muses Moira. 

“What do you want to do?” he asks. 

“I’m following them,” she replies as she grabs her wand. 

“Let me come with you.” he insists. 

“ _Cave inimicum_!” she incants. 

The couple quietly leaves the Hospital Wing and follows the Auror and rumored mad boy across the castle. The latter pair are completely unaware of the former pair following them. 

“The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?” inquires Moody. 

“Made a potion… got his body back…” mutters a mortified Harry. 

“You dueled with the Dark Lord?” 

“And the Death Eaters came… and then we dueled…Got away… my wand… did something funny…. I saw my mum and dad… they came out of his wand…” continues Harry. 

Moira and Cedric simultaneously have a flashback of the Dark Mark they saw back in August. Moody and Harry go up a flight of stairs and enter a crowded room.

“In here, Harry… in here, and sit down…” directs Moody. 

Moira and Cedric quickly enter the room before Moody seemingly locks it. Harry appears to be extremely disoriented and numb. Moody pours an unlabeled concoction into a cup and shoves it into the boy’s hands. 

“You’ll be alright now… drink this. Drink it… you’ll feel better… Come on, now Harry, I need to know exactly what happened.” insists Moody as he tips the drink down Harry’s throat. 

“Voldemort’s back, Harry? You’re sure he’s back? How did he do it?” 

“He took stuff from his father’s grave, and from Wormtail, and me…” 

“What did the Dark Lord take from you?” inquires Moody. 

“Blood…” says Harry as he raises his arm and reveals a ripped sleeve and a bleeding arm. 

“And the Death Eaters? They returned?” 

“Yes… Loads of them…” 

Moody shakes his head. “It’s a shame… the Dark Lord would have enjoyed Crane and Diggory… but they will be dealt with after this..”

Moira and Cedric give each other a nervous look. 

“Did he…” starts Cedric but he closes his mouth when he sees Harry opening his. 

“Professor… I don’t understand… what do Moira and Cedric have to do with this?” 

“You didn’t think that Crane being selected as the fourth Champion was a reflection of her exceptional worthiness did you?” 

“I don’t know…”

“You see Potter, it was not Crane who was supposed to be selected by the Goblet of Fire… it was meant to be yours.” 

Harry appears to give him a strange look. “How? Why? How do you know this?”

“Because it was I who put your name in the Goblet of Fire.”

A chilling ring echoes in Moira’s ears as she shakes her head. Cedric grows pale. 

“No you didn’t…” denies Harry who is obviously having a hard time believing this. “You didn’t do that… You can’t have done… “ 

“I assure you I did,” says Moody as he points his wand at Harry’s heart.” 

“Then why didn’t my name come out? Why did Moira’s name come out instead of mine?” 

“Never trust a Crane, Potter. Trickery and deception run through their veins… Including hers.”

“Ouch.” is Moira’s snarky response. 

“I don’t know Moira well,” states Harry, “ but I don’t think she’s capable of hoodwinking the Goblet… Dumbledore ensured that. She’s of age, she didn’t cheat. I saw her face when she was picked.” 

“Then how did she and Diggory get past the Triwizard Cup? Probably the same way I managed to put your name in the Goblet of Fire!” 

“They won?” 

“Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory were to be the appetizers and you were to be the main course to the Dark Lord’s return!” 

A heavy-feeling Moira blinks rapidly as she places her breathing. “What did he say?” 

Cedric is shocked into silence. Harry merely stares at the Auror.

“The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you, Potter, and he so wanted to,” Moody says in a lower voice. “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I failed initially… and I tried to offer compensation… but I succeeded in giving you to him- the thing he needed above all to regenerate - and then I killed you for him. I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter… closer than a son…” 

Moody is fixated on the young boy as his wand is clearly set to kill. “He’s not going to leave this room alive,” says Cedric. “…But there’s two of us and one of him.” 

The twisted Auror continues his speech. “The Dark Lord and I have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers… Very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure… the very great pleasure… of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!” 

“You’re mad…” says Harry. “YOU’RE MAD!” 

“Mad, am I?” snarls Moody who is growing increasingly volatile. “We’ll see! We’ll see who’s mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter! You did not conquer him… And now… I conquer you!” 

Moody raises his wand at Harry as Moira and Cedric point theirs at the deranged Auror, who is still unaware of their presence. The two wizards and one witch open their mouths - 

“ _STUPEFY_!”

A bright red light blinds the three teenagers. The door is blown wide open and Moody is thrown backward onto the office floor. Harry is absolutely still. In place of the door are Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall. A furious-looking Dumbledore holds his wand offensively. He analyzes the room and stares directly into the area where Moira and Cedric are hiding. 

“Cedric? Moira? You can come out now.” he instructs. Harry furrows his eyebrows and looks in the direction Dumbledore is looking. 

“How in Merlin’s beard does he know we’re here?” asks Moira. 

“We’re not at the Hospital Wing… but I’m not sure… but I reckon that we shouldn’t toy with his temper right now.” 

Moira non-verbally takes down the shield. Harry shakes his head and blinks several times as Moira and Cedric suddenly appear. “Come along, you three, ” maternally beckons McGonagall with her hands. 

“He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why,” says Dumbledore. 

“Then I will escort Diggory and Crane back to the Hospital Wing,” concludes McGonagall. 

“I’m afraid they will have to stay as well. They have seen and heard too much and it would be an insult to their intelligence to deny them the understanding of what they have witnessed.” retorts Dumbledore. 

“Moody…. It was Moody who messed with the Portkey?” Moira anxiously whispers to Cedric. Harry gives them a weird look.

“This is not Alastor Moody,” corrects Dumbledore. “The three of you have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you, Harry, from my sight after what happened at the stands tonight. The moment he took you, I knew - and I followed.” 

“What happened at the stands?” asks Cedric. 

“While we were waiting for your return from the maze, Harry disappeared from the stands and reappeared after you were both escorted to the Hospital Wing.” Dumbledore answers for Harry. 

“And commotion ensured I presume?” remarks Moira, who turns her attention to Harry. He nods. 

Dumbledore bends over Moody’s body and puts his hand inside his robe. He pulls out Moody’s hip flask (which he always drank from) and a set of keys. He turns his attention to McGonagall and Snape. 

“Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, then go down to the kitchen and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid’s house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly. Then come back here.” requests Dumbledore. 

Both Professors leave the room. The teenagers awkwardly stand around the room as Dumbledore looks around the room. He spots a trunk with seven locks. He uses a key on the first lock, and it opens up, revealing a bunch of spell-books. Dumbledore closes the trunk and inserts another key on the second lock, revealing miscellaneous stationery items and a cloak. The students watch Dumbledore open up each lock until he gets to the seventh lock. Dumbledore opens a lid and looks down. 

The teenagers slowly huddle around the trunk and discover that the trunk is a pit. Several feet below them is a sleeping and malnourished Alastor Moody sans the wooden leg and magical eye. Harry, Cedric, and Moira keep looking between the real Moody in the pit and the imposter Moody that is stunned on the floor. 

Dumbledore stares into the pit for minutes. Harry shifts his focus onto the imposter on the ground. Moira and Cedric look around the room as they attempt to marinate with the numerous revelations they’ve uncovered within minutes. Cedric’s complexion is now completely pale. He is frozen in space as he stares into nothingness with his mouth agape. As she carefully paces around the room, Moira’s hands are shaking at a high rate as she massages her face and lips as she replays “Moody”’s revelation of his meddling with the Tournament Cup and the Goblet of Fire. What does this mean for her personally? And what does this say about her? Why was she still selected despite Moody’s meddling? 

A loud clunk breaks her concentration. She sees that Harry and Cedric are becoming overwhelmed by their sight. She shifts her focus to the floor. “Moody” has lost his wooden leg as a typical leg grows in its place. His magical eyeball falls out of its socket as he gains a real eyeball. The man violently transforms into a pale, lean, younger man around his late thirties if not early forties. Harry is visibly taken aback. It seems as though he recognizes him. 

“Crouch! Barty Crouch!” yells Snape who stands next to a house-elf. 

Moira and Cedric furrow their eyebrows at the mention of the name. 

“Crouch?” says Cedric 

“As in…” Moira continues the question. 

Snape coldly nods. 

“Good heavens,” says a newly-returned McGonagall, who is staring at the man on the floor. 

The house-elf begins to cry as she throws herself onto Crouch. She accuses the room of killing him. Dumbledore asks the elf to move aside and assures her that Crouch is Stunned. Snape and Dumbledore pull up Crouch and place him against a wall. The potions professor pours three drops of Veritaserum, a clear liquid, into Crouch’s mouth. 

The three professors, the three students, and the weeping house-elf huddle around the Stunned man. Dumbledore points his wand at Crouch, saying “Rennervate…”

Crouch opens up his eyes. His gaze is neutral. Dumbledore kneels to meet the man at face-level. 

“Can you hear me?” quietly asks Dumbledore. 

“Yes.” answers the man. 

“I would like you to tell us… How you come to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?” 

Moira and Cedric are horrified as Crouch, in a flat tone, describes how he and his mother switched places in Azkaban and was believed to have died in prison. He then explains how his father, whom Moira and Cedric have met, placed him under the Imperius Curse. The house-elf, who Crouch explains was his keeper, sobs in between his confessions. Apparently, he was discovered by a witch named Bertha Jorkins, who was reported missing last summer. 

“Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup,” requests Dumbledore. He reveals that the house-elf persuaded his elf to take them to the finals… that they were sitting in the Top Box. Crouch was beginning to fight off the Imperius Curse. He even stole a boy’s wand, to which the house-elf semi-scolds him between tears. 

Moira has a flashback of her and her family greeting and interacting with Crouch that evening before her family caught up with Cedric and Mr. Diggory. Had they not been watching the final with the Diggory men, they would have been with Crouch, Fudge, and other top-tier Ministry of Magic members. 

“We went back to the tent. Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters.” explains Crouch. The sounds of screams, the hooded figures, and the fiery sight flash through the elder teenagers’ minds. 

“The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent; he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.” Crouch continues. 

The image reappears in Moira’s mind as though it just happened. The green illumination of Cedric’s face. The moving image in the sky. The fear that was instilled in her heart and was instilled ever since… the origin of her need to escape that image…that source of terror… Her need for an anecdote. The very thing that has led her to make a series of decisions that has brought her to this very moment. When she looks at Crouch… she can’t tell if she wants to scream at him or punch him for imprinting a symbol that she is sure will haunt her for the rest of her life. 

“Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned. When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby.” 

Moira remembers her conversation with her father from that night as Crouch’s testimony plays in the background. She rewinds and replays in her mind a few times:

“-Dad! What’d you see with Mr. Diggory?”

“We didn’t catch anyone… except a house-elf.” 

“Elves can’t conjure Marks like that,” 

“I know… I know… It’s a long story… I…”

The audio clip in her head is paused by Dumbledore’s next question. “And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?” 

“He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensured he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master…” 

“But Potter’s name never came out of the fire,” reminds Dumbledore. 

“No. How Moira Crane came out to be the fourth name instead of Harry Potter’s is unknown to me, but I have never trusted the Cranes, who have done nothing but to smear the names of my master, myself, and the Death Eaters. I still had to deliver him to my master, so I would wait for the perfect opportunity to modify my plan to deliver Harry Potter… and offer Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory, who blindly follows her, as entertainment to my master before Potter’s arrival… Until that moment came, I would wait. Of course-” explains Crouch with a sadistic smile on his face. 

“You needed Alastor Moody either way,” asks Dumbledore, who is disturbed by Crouch’s words. Moira and Cedric feel cold chills. 

Crouch explains in great detail how he and another Death Eater, named Wormtail, subdued the true Moody right before the Auror would have traveled to Hogwarts for the school year. The other Death Eater would return to You-Know-Who, and watch the senior Crouch.

“But your father escaped,” says Dumbledore. 

“Yes. After a while, he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything… to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban. My master sent me word of my father’s escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter.” 

“Map?” asks Dumbledore. “What map is this?” 

“Potter’s map of Hogwarts. I caught him wandering around Hogwarts, so I took it from him,” clarifies Crouch before continuing. “For a week, I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Bagman and the Champions were there. I waited. The Champions went to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Bagman. I killed my father. “ 

Moira’s and Cedric’s hearts skip a beat upon remembering the night of May 24th. Winky, the house-elf, worsens her sobs. 

“And what did you do with the body?” softly asks Dumbledore. 

“Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I watched the Champions run into the castle and bring Dumbledore out of the castle. I saw on the map that they had met with Snape. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, and went to meet them. I dismissed the Champions. Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to his body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father’s body. He became a bone… I buried it while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid’s cabin.” 

Everyone was brought to a troubled silence. Winky continued to sob. 

Dumbledore opens his mouth, “And tonight?” 

“I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner. I turned it into a Portkey intending to send Moira Crane and Cedric Diggory to the graveyard so that the Dark Lord could see the faces of the individuals who nearly foiled his rise to power. I Stunned Fleur Delacour and sent the red sparks. I Imperioused Viktor Krum and manipulated the maze to weaken Cedric Diggory and Moira Crane before sending them to my master, but I believe they’ve manipulated the Triwizard Cup in the same way I have manipulated the Goblet of Fire.” says Crouch.

“And how did you do that?” inquires Dumbledore. 

“I used the Confundus Charm on the Goblet of Fire to trick the Goblet into thinking there were four schools, and therefore four people, competing.” Crouch answers. 

“And Potter?” continues Dumbledore. 

“I watched him over the year and learned of his friendship with a house-elf. He told me during The Yule Ball that a house-elf named Dobby gave him socks for Christmas. They have a habit of giving each other socks. They were close, so I stole a sock from the elf and turned it into a Portkey. I planted it in the Gryffindor section of the stands knowing that only Potter would recognize the item. Despite the change in plan, my master has been returned to power, and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards.” proudly states Crouch with an insane smile. 

Harry, Cedric, and Moira look at one another with frightened faces as they realize that their fates have been sickly entangled with one another… and somehow… Each teenager has escaped death. Harry has so many questions to ask them. Moira and Cedric have just as many to ask him. 

The events of the Quidditch World Cup play in Moira’s head, especially the fire, the screaming, and the Dark Mark. The Daily Prophet headline pops up in her head followed by today’s headline regarding Harry Potter’s “madness”. She relieves the events of October 31st in her mind… and she wonders… how in the world did she not reconcile all of this? How did she not connect the dots? But who would have? 

Dumbledore stands up and looks at Crouch with fury and disgust. “Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?” 

“Of course,” says Professor McGonagall with a contemptuous look as she draws up her wand and points it at the Death Eater. 

“Severus, please escort Moira and Cedric to the Hospital Wing. Tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the Hospital Wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the Hospital Wing in a half an hour’s time if he needs me. Moira, Cedric… I will need to speak to you both later. Until then, rest for tonight. Your ceremonies will take place tomorrow morning.” 

Snape dramatically escorts the winners out of the room. The walk back to the Hospital Wing is a reflection of how he prefers to run his classes - cold and stringent. 

“You are to remain in the Hospital Wing until Dumbledore says otherwise. You are not to sneak off and interact with anyone except for those in the Wing,” sternly warns Snape. “Do you understand?” 

Moira and Cedric nod. Just outside of the entrance of the Hospital Wing stands Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, Mr. and Mrs. Crane, Bryn, Angelica, and Minister Fudge. They give the professor and the students a strange look. 

“Mr. Diggory… Miss Crane…” addresses Minister Fudge. “What brings you two outside of the Hospital Wing? And why is Professor Snape with you?” 

Snape proceeds to stoically explain the situation to Fudge. Crouch, Harry, the winner’s sneaking about, all of it. Understandably, the families are horrified. Following Dumbledore’s instructions, Snape calls for Madame Pomfrey and escorts Fudge back to the room. Mr. Crane, without warning, takes off and joins them. Mr. Diggory decides to follow the men.


	23. Chapter 23

It has been a few minutes since Moira and Cedric have returned to the Hospital Wing. The winners have changed into their pajamas and are to ingest a potion that would allow them to properly rest. 

Pomfrey has retrieved the real Alastor Moody. She has administered a few potions and is checking on him periodically. 

Mrs. Crane, Mrs. Diggory, Bryn, and Angelica, are still grappling with the information that Snape has related to them.

“Are you both alright?” Mrs. Crane asks Moira and Cedric. They nod. 

“Good… good. Fudge came to tell you that the presentation ceremony has been delayed to tomorrow morning.” she continues. 

“Yes… he wanted you both to properly recover from the maze… but I reckon this will be taking priority,” says Mrs. Diggory. 

Dumbledore enters the Wing with Harry, who has a large black dog by his side, like a guard dog. 

“Headmaster,” says Madam Pomfrey as she stares at the dog. “May I ask what -?” 

“This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while,” replies Dumbledore. “I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry … I will wait while you get into bed.” 

“I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry,” says Dumbledore, who shifts his attention to Moire and Cedric. “I would like the three of you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school.” 

Madam Pomfrey leads Harry to a bed. “Is he okay?” Harry asks as he looks to the very corner of the ward where Moody rests. 

“He’ll be fine,” replies Madame Pomfrey as she hands him pajamas and pulls a screen around him to change. He pulls the screen and settles into bed. 

Moira, Cedric, and Harry look at each other. They don’t know what to say to one another.

Pomfrey approaches Harry with a goblet and a bottle of purple potion. “You’ll need to drink all of this, Harry… it’s a potion for dreamless sleep.” 

Harry begins to sip the drink. Within seconds, he falls into a slumber. 

“Mrs. Crane? Mrs. Diggory? May I speak to you both privately?” politely requests Dumbledore. The mothers nod and follow the Headmaster out of the ward. The dog, who is absolutely still, stares at Moira, Cedric, Angelica, and Bryn. From Moira’s perspective, he appears to be deciding if he’s going to sniff or bark at them, but the dog decides to remain where he is. 

Mr. Diggory angrily enters the Wing. He opts to sit by his son’s bed. 

“Dad? Dad? What happened?” asks Cedric. Mindful of a sleeping Harry, he converses with his son in irate whispers. 

Echoes of shouts bouncing through the ward from the corridors. Harry wakes up. He puts on his glasses and groggily looks around… “What’s happening?” 

“That’s Fudge’s voice,” observes Bryn. The Crane siblings listen again.

“That’s McGonagall…” points out Moira. 

“Is that Dad?” asks Angelica. 

“Isn’t that Snape?” questions Bryn.

“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva!” shouts Mr. Crane. 

“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” scolds McGonagall. “When Dumbledore finds out -” 

The doors are violently opened. “Where’s Dumbledore?!” Fudge shouts at Mr. Diggory. 

Mr. Crane, Professors McGonagall, and Snape surround the Minister of Magic. 

“This is a Hospital Wing! Three children are trying to rest! Can’t you take your quarrels elsewhere?” 

Dumbledore, Mrs. Crane, and Mrs. Diggory, hurriedly enters the ward. 

“What has happened? Why are you disturbing these people?” complains Dumbledore. “Minerva, I’m surprised at you! I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -” 

“-There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” interrupts McGonagall who is losing it, “The Minister and Mr. Crane has seen to that!” 

Everyone in the room gasps in their own unique way as they glare at Minister Fudge and Mr. Crane. 

“When we told Mr. Fudge and Mr. Crane that we had caught a Death Eater responsible for Potter’s ordeal, Mr. Crane felt that their personal safety was in question and vouched for “personal protection”. Mr. Fudge proceeded to summon a dementor to accompany them. They brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch - 

“-I told them you would not agree, Dumbledore!” complains McGonagall. “I told them you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle but -” 

“The Minister of Magic has every right to decide to bring protection with him when interviewing a possibly dangerous -” cuts off Mr. Crane

“The moment that…. Thing entered the room…” screams a trembling McGonagall. “It swooped down on Crouch… and…. And….” 

The professor never finishes her sentence but everyone uses their imagination. The dementor sucked Barty Crouch’s soul out through his mouth, a practice commonly known as the “Dementor’s Kiss”. Crouch is beyond dead. 

“By all accounts, he is no loss!” states Fudge. “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!’ 

“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius!” counters Dumbledore. 

“Why he killed Jorkins and his father? He was clearly mad! According to these professors, the man thought You-Know-Who was instructing him!” snarls Mr. Crane. 

“Lord Voldermort was giving him instructions, Ellwood!” says Dumbledore. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldermort has been restored to his body. 

Fudge cringes as he looks at the Headmaster. “You-Know-Who… returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…” 

“Cornelius… We heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldermort, learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins, went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry! Ellwood… your daughter heard the confession. Ask her and she will tell you what she heard!” 

“You keep my daughter out of this!” aggressively replies Mr. Crane. 

“Crouch was intending to also harm your daughter, along with Diggory’s boy!” adds Dumbledore. 

“What would a Death Eater possibly want with two pure-bloods?” retorts an exasperated Mr. Crane. Moira looks over to her mother, who is silently wishing that she could disappear from the ward. She avoids eye contact with Cedric, Mr. Diggory, and Mrs. Diggory. 

“Crouch manipulated the Goblet of Fire to have Harry Potter enter the Tournament. Your daughter took his place. Crouch delivered Harry to Voldermort and has helped him return… but he was going to serve her and Diggory to Voldemort as punishment for nearly ruining his plans!” explains Dumbledore. 

“Do not place my daughter, Amos’ boy, and Potter into the bowl of madness you are mixing” warns Mr. Crane who is bubbling red. Fudge places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“Calm yourself, Ellwood…” says Fudge. Everyone sees a slight smile forming on the Minister’s face. 

“See here, Dumbledore, you… you can’t seriously believe that. You-Know-Who… back? Come now…. Come now….” he theatrically monologues “Certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who’s orders… but to take the word of a lunatic like that? Dumbledore…” 

“Harry witnessed Lord Voldemort’s rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office.” Dumbledore says to Fudge as Ellwood remains quiet.

The Headmaster sees that the adults in the room are now eying Harry, who is awake and alert. “But I am afraid I cannot permit any of you to question Harry tonight.” 

Fudge’s smirk increases into a mocking smile as he studies Harry. The Minister looks to Mr. Crane, who shares a similar smile.

“You are… er… you’re prepared to take Harry’s word on this, are you Dumbledore?” asks Fudge. 

A contentious silence is broken by the growl of Harry’s black dog, who bares his teeth at Fudge. 

“Certainly, I believe Harry,” Dumbledore answers plainly. 

“You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a Parselmouth? A boy having funny turns all over the place? A boy who can’t seem to handle his classmates receiving more attention than him for a singular year?” 

Cedric realizes that this last statement refers to him and Moira but it’s quite obvious that Mr. Crane is referring to his daughter more than him. Moira, who already knows this, is wishing that she could disappear right now. 

“I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?” Dumbledore says in a collected tone. 

“So then you admit that he has been having these pains then?” backhandedly asks Mr. Crane. “Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly… hallucinations?” 

“Cornelius… Ellwood… listen to me.” pleads Dumbledore. “Harry is as sane as you or me. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous.” 

“You’ll forgive me, Dumbledore,” replies Fudge, “But I’ve never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…” 

“Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” shouts Harry, who is sitting upright. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names!” 

Snape is notably tense. Fudge looks to Harry as he awaits the list of names. 

“Lucius Malfoy!” begins Harry. 

“Malfoy was cleared!” corrects Fudge, “A very old family - donations to excellent causes -” 

“-Macnair!” 

“Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!” 

“Avery! Nott! Crabbe! Goyle!” 

“You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen yeard ago!” 

“This boy has been at the center of every conspiracy theory since he has started here at Hogwarts!” complains Mr. Crane. “The one year that attention is shifted to two other students, he claims that Voldemort has returned! I do not think this is a coincidence! The boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore! Do you think he’s actually trustworthy?!” 

“You fools!” cries, McGonagall. “Bertha Jorkins! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!” 

“I see no evidence to the contrary!” shouts back Fudge. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!” 

“Voldemort has returned,” insisted Dumbledore. “If you accept that fact straightaway, we may still be able to save the situation.” 

The Headmaster suggests to Fudge that he remove the dementors from Azkaban and send envoys to the giants. The Minister of Magic is non-verbally outraged by the suggestions. 

“You… you cannot be serious!” explodes Fudge. “This would mean the end of my career!” 

Dumbledore shakes his head. “You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you have always done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any - and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now, take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act, and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!” 

“Insane… “ Mr. Crane whispers to Fudge. “Mad…” 

The room is silent. Madame Pomfrey is frozen. Snape is stoic. McGonagall is deeply troubled. Mr. Diggory is fuming. Mrs. Diggory is visibly disturbed. Mrs. Crane is painfully embarrassed. Bryn is scowling at his father. Angelica is confused. Harry is outraged. His dog is growling. Cedric’s jaw is agape. Moira is tensely pouting. 

“If both your determinations are to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius,” advises Dumbledore, “We reached a parting of ways. You must each act as you see fit. And I… I shall act as I see fit.” 

“Now see here, Dumbledore,” warns Dumbledore, “I’ve given you free rein, always. I’ve had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I’ve kept quiet. There aren’t many who’d have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you’re going to work against me -” 

“-The only one against whom I intend to work is Lord Voldemort,” says Dumbledore. “If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.” 

“But he can’t be back, Dumbledore…” pleads Fudge. “He just can’t be…” 

Snape pulls up his left sleeve. Everyone in the room gasps and recoils. 

“There,” sternly says Snape. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord.” 

The kids look amongst each other with a horrified expression. Snape continues to speak. 

“It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. Where he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disparate and Apparate, instantly at his side. The Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight?” 

Moira and Cedric look at one another. They remember seeing him accompany Viktor before the maze, but now that they reflect back on their exit from the maze… neither of them recall seeing him afterward. 

“We both felt the Mark burn.” continues Snape. “We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.” 

The Tournament winners grow horrified at the thought that they were interacting with THREE Death Eaters over the course of the year. One taught them for years, another played a major role in the Tournament, and the other just admitted to wanting to kill them. 

A repelled Fudge shakes his head. “I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add.” 

The Minister of Magic turns to Moira and Cedric. “I will see you both at the presentation ceremony tomorrow. Congratulations once again. Apologies for the… inconvenience.” He puts on his bowler hat and storms the ward, slamming the door behind him. 

Dumbledore looks to the remaining people in the room. “Severus… McGonagall… let us speak… elsewhere…” 

“Professor Dumbledore?” says Bryn. “If I could speak to you afterward?” 

“Come to my office, Bryn.” 

The eldest Crane sibling leaves the room. 

Mr. and Mrs. Diggory whispers a few things to Cedric before bidding him good night and leaving the ward. Madame Pomfrey administers the sleeping potion to Harry Potter, who instantly falls asleep. She also decides to administer this to Cedric, who is knocked out. She tells Moira that she’ll Moira her dose once her family vacates. 

Mr. Crane approaches Mrs. Crane and Angelica. His wife, who is visibly upset, takes her daughter and leaves the room. He sits by Moira, who is visibly upset. She crosses her arms and refuses to make eye contact with her father. 

“Dad… I heard the confession,” begins Moira. “He did have Veritaserum in his system.” 

“I know you did… and I know he did.” half-heartedly answers Mr. Crane. 

“Potter’s telling the truth,” states Moira. 

“And how do you know this?” 

“I…” Moira suddenly remembers Trelawney’s warning to not tell anyone about her Seeing abilities. She sighs. “I just do. I just know.” 

“Moira… you have worked too tirelessly to be overshadowed by that boy!” urges Mr. Crane. 

“Is that why you let that article about him publish?” asks Moira. 

“Yes.” 

“It’s not true… he’s not mad. My friend, Cho, she’s dating him… she’s never mentioned anything about him being mad. She said that he’s not mad!” 

“If I were to say the same about Cedric, you too would say the same thing…Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t,” he replies as he sees his daughter prepare a retort. “I’m not going to let Potter have the spotlight to himself again! I’ve had to talk about this boy for fourteen years! Pardon me if I want to highlight my child’s accomplishments-” 

Moira releases her vocal restraint. “-Then what was that November article about?!” 

“Which one?” 

“The first one!” 

“I didn’t know Skeeter would slander you like that -” 

“Stop lying! You knew that she was capable of this after the World Cup! You certainly knew when she wrote those articles about everyone this year! You just admitted to green-lighting the Potter article!” 

“You are Moira Crane! We couldn’t show our bias, at least not at first. Skeeter’s article, I admit, was pure gossip, but it sold even more articles than the Quidditch World Cup headline!” 

“So why go to the Diggorys? Why do damage control?” 

“It was the polite thing to do… but since their son is now just as famous as you are… I suppose they’ll be thanking us now.” 

Moira’s jaw drops at her father’s words. “Dad… all of this… what you did with Fudge… this is all wrong.” 

“Do you know what would have been tomorrow’s headline? It would have about Potter… and the so-called Death Eater… and the alleged return of Voldemort. Thanks to me, it will be about Moira Crane, ‘The White-Winged Crane’, and Cedric Diggory: The Hogwarts Winners of the Triwizard Tournament!” monologues Mr. Crane as he ignores his daughter’s concerned facial expression. 

Moira feels herself turning into a little girl as she pleads, “Dad… you have to tell the truth… I beg you… put your friendship with Fudge aside, go to London, and tell the editors about what you heard… I will gladly off my account of events… so would Cedric… so would Dumbledore and McGonagall and Snape… Please… my win means nothing in compared to-” 

“It means EVERYTHING!” interrupts Mr. Crane. “Your win is the only thing that matters right now! You have personally cemented your name into history amongst the greats. You mustn’t do anything now. Let me enforce your glory onto the public! Allow yourself to reap the fruits of your labor and the benefits that come with it!” 

“And what purpose would that serve?” she skeptically asks.

“You have elevated the Cranes into a level that puts us above other Wizarding families!” 

Moira raises an eyebrow. “Like whom? The Malfoys? The Blacks? The Lestranges? The Parkinsons?” 

Twinkles take over Mr. Crane’s eyes as he says, “Beyond. We are now the cream of the cream! The supreme of the supreme!” 

Realizing that her father is not going to adjust his position, Moira gives her father a dirty look and rolls her eyes. Ignoring the next words coming from his mouth, Moira says in a louder voice “Madame Pomfrey? May I have the potion, please?” 

Mr. Crane gets up and leaves the ward. Pomfrey gives her a goblet full of the sleeping potion. She wants to pretend that everything she’s heard was pure rubbish… but finds herself unable to deny what has happened. 

After a few sips, everything becomes hazy and her eyes close. Moira may not be able to completely grapple with today’s events at the moment but her dreamless slumber will help her momentarily forget what has occurred.


	24. Chapter 24

Moira sits up in bed. The sun has barely risen. It hides behind the clouds but some light makes its way into the Hospital Wing. She looks around the room. Harry is still sleeping. Moody appears to be in the same condition he was in last night. Cedric, whose face has healed substantially, is slowly waking up. 

“Morning!” softly greets Moira. 

“Morning…” says a half-asleep Cedric. “We’re still here?” 

She frowns and sighs as the events of last night begin to flood back in. “It appears so…” He admires his girlfriend in the light. “How are you feeling?” 

The delayed exhaustion and anger that resided within her erupts. “Last night was bloody insane! The maze, Viktor, the Cup, Crouch, my dad. All of it!” she rants as she notes that Harry is still sleeping. “I can’t even count the number of times we almost died!” 

Cedric, who is sitting up, slouches as the events of last night begins to hit him. He begins to count with his fingers, “The Blast-Ended Skrewt for me… Viktor for us…. Potentially the Sphinx for both of us … The spider for me… The hedge vines for you… The Cup… that is if you never had the dream… Crouch probably might have killed us by now…” He exhales as their survival becomes surreal for him. “Seven fucking ways we could have died….” 

“And now You-Know-Who is back?! How… how did I not see it coming?” continues Moira. “And my dad… oh Merlin….I… I don’t know how I can show my face outside of this wing. How am I supposed to sit through Transfigurations and Potions next year after what my dad pulled? How am I supposed to look at Dumbledore after this? How are your parents supposed to look at me after this?” 

The doors open. The anxious couple looks and finds Bryn mischievously smiling at them. “Hello, you two.” 

He walks down the aisle of beds and sits between Moira and Cedric’s bed. 

“I think it’s high time that I explained to you two what I do for a living.” he declares and he finds a sitting position that makes him comfortable. 

“I thought you couldn’t talk about it.” reminds Moira. 

“This conversation wouldn’t make any sense if it did,” says Bryn. 

“Ah….So what do you do as an Unspeakable?” asks a genuinely curious Cedric. 

“My specialty within the Department of Mysteries is in Ancient Magic. I study phenomena in our world and try to offer an explanation. I hear about things… and I learn of things… I investigate them…and then I try to understand them as best as I can. It’s like a complex thought game… it keeps the mind agile, you know.” begins Bryn.

Cedric smirks as he enjoys the trademark intellectual passions of another Crane. 

“When you, Moira, wrote to me, to say that you both were selected by the Goblet of Fire to participate in the Triwizard Tournament… I knew that something was off.” 

“Yeah… a Death Eater messing with the Goblet.” points out Moira with a snarky tone. 

“But yet, to quote Amos Diggory, ‘You beat Harry Potter!’.” counters Bryn. “No offense, Cedric.” 

“None taken,” replies Cedric with a soft laugh. 

“You two were both selected to compete side by side in the Tournament by a compromised antique! Have either of you paid any thought to it?” 

Moira lets out a sigh and shrugs. Cedric simply shakes his head. Bryn beams with nerdy excitement. 

“Well… I thought long and hard about it and I even consulted with Dumbledore. After sleeping on it, I believe that I have found a theory.” excitedly says Bryn. 

“And what is that theory?” skeptically asks Moira. 

A smiling Bryn warms up his hands and takes a deep breath. He points at the couple. Moira and Cedric share a dubious look with one another before looking back at Bryn. 

“You! Both of you! Together! Your relationship… your bond… that is my theory!” 

“Could you…er… explain further?” asks Cedric. 

“You two said that you’ve made an oath to one another before submitting your names into the Goblet of Fire. That is, you’ve submitted yourselves into a contract that has bound you both to one another before proceeding to submit your names into the Goblet of Fire simultaneously. The Goblet recognized each of you as bound to the other. You, Moira, are bound to Cedric, and you, Cedric, are bound to Moira. The Goblet of Fire, when making its decision, could not have created a contract with one of you without creating it with the other…” begins Bryn. 

The couple nods as they try to keep up with his explanation. 

“The Goblet is a reader of hearts… It reads the heart of each person submitting their names and searches for worthiness. This is how participants were selected centuries ago, and it is how you were selected back in October. Keeping the bond you both share in mind, the Goblet had to read both of your hearts before selecting you both. Remind me, who was selected first?” 

“My name came out first,” says Cedric. “Moira’s came out minutes later.” 

Bryn continues his lecture. “So if you, Cedric, were not deemed worthy to participate, you, Moira, would not have been selected. If you, Moira, were not deemed worthy to participate, you, Cedric, would not have been selected. One could have not been selected by the Goblet of Fire without the other…” 

“But the tampering… how do you explain that?” Moira asks. 

Bryn smirks before beginning his explanation. “Oaths, vows, and promises are a branch of Ancient Spells, but in order for the spell to work, it has to be fueled by a powerful source of internal power.” 

“Which is?” she asks again. 

“Love! Love is what led you both to persuade the other to submit your names into the Goblet of Fire! Love is what moved you both to make your promise. Love is what ultimately binds you both together. Love is what makes you both worthy!” 

“But how is that connected to Crouch and the Goblet?” asks Cedric. 

“Love is a form of Ancient Magic,” says Bryn, “It is a force that counteracts, hoodwinks, and overthrows any and all malicious spells. Love is what led you to become Triwizard Champions, but Love is what repulsed whatever enchantment-” 

“-The Confundus Charm,” adds Moira.

“So Love, your Love, your bond, canceled out The Confundus Charm… so Harry Potter has you both to thank.” 

Crouch used to mess with the fire… so Harry Potter has you both to thank… The Tournament was already difficult for of-age witches and wizards… I don’t know how someone as young as he would have survived.” 

“Thanks..” says a fourth voice. The group shifts their attention to Harry Potter, who is wide awake. The black dog, who was by his side last night, is gone. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude… or eavesdrop,” continues the fourteen-year-old. “Moira? Cedric? Could I… speak to you privately?” 

The elder teenagers look at Bryn, who gets up. “I’ll see you both at the ceremony.” Harry watches them 

“What happened to your dog?” asks Moira. Harry looks around him and finds that the dog is indeed gone. He frowns. 

“I don’t know… Could I ask you both a question?” 

“Sure,” replies Cedric. 

“Why did you follow me and Moody… Crouch… Why did you follow me and Crouch?”

Moira and Cedric look at each other to decide on an answer. They remember that Trelawney told them to keep Moira’s Seeing abilities a secret… This would also include not disclosing her newfound abilities to The Boy Who Lived. 

“We had a bad feeling about you and Moody being left alone together” answers Cedric, who, according to Moira, isn’t technically lying. 

Harry looks at them as he seems to be debating whether he wants to believe them. His facial expressions indicate he does as he says, “Oh…Sorry you had to witness all of that and get dragged into my mess. Could I ask another question?”

“We’re already having a conversation, aren’t we?” replies Moira. 

“We are.” He pauses as he comes up with his question. “Is what Crouch said true? Did you enchant the Triwizard Cup to avoid the graveyard?” 

“Yes. I enchanted it myself.” truthfully answers Moira. 

“How?” asks Harry. 

“Confundus Charm,” responds Moira without blinking. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around telling people that… we don’t want to be stripped of our titles… We worked too hard to earn it.” 

“Of course,” says a nodding Harry. “But why did you do it?

Moira quickly thinks of an answer that does not entail inventing lies. “I just had a knowing…” 

“She’s got a really good instinct,” adds Cedric. “She’s just good at… knowing things… and deciphering them.” 

Madame Pomfrey enters the ward from her office. Her presence interrupts whatever words Harry was about to utter. “You can all leave now. You’ll all need to clean up and put on fresh robes for The Presentation Ceremony that’s taking place after breakfast.” 

An hour later, Moira and Cedric enter the Great Hall. They are overwhelmed with the thunderous applause from the student bodies that have been eating breakfast for the past hour and a half. For the first time in over twenty-four hours, Moira and Cedric part ways as they return to their House tables. 

“How are you doing, winner? All healed up?” asks Roger as he hands her a cup of pumpkin juice. 

Moira nods as she drinks. 

“We were going to celebrate in the Common Room last night, but we wanted you to recover before doing so!” says Cho. 

“Thanks….” replies Moira as she reaches for eggs and sausages. All she wants to do is eat and think about Bryn’s explanation, Harry’s ordeal, and the events of last night, but she is bombarded by various questions from her fellow Ravenclaws: 

“What was in the maze?” 

“How did you and Cedric end up getting to the Cup at the same time?” 

“Why were you covered in cuts?” 

“Did you just say that there were creatures? Which ones?” 

“Did you kill anything?” 

“Did you think that you were going to die?”

“We saw Krum and Delacour cast the red sparks… Did you ever come close to casting it yourself?” 

Moira, being polite, answers each and every question in-between bites and sips. Sometimes she lies, and sometimes she tells the truth. Sometimes she says a combination of the two. Within what feels like minutes, the plates and cups vanish. Dumbledore stands and everyone is silenced. Moira, for the first time since she sat down, looks over at the staff table. She sees that Fudge, Bagman, the Diggorys, and the Cranes join them as guests. She senses the combative energy enveloping the table, though she wonders if her knowledge of last night’s events is filtering her perception or if the tension is obvious to everyone in the room. 

“If I could have Mr. Diggory and Miss Crane come up here, please…” requests Dumbledore. Cheers accompany the winners as they leave their tables and meet Dumbledore. Bagman and Fudge now stand next to Dumbledore. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my honor to present to you once again the winners of the Triwizard Tournament: Miss Moira Crane and Mr. Cedric Diggory, of the Hogwarts of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” 

A thunderous standing ovation bounces throughout the room. Bagman hands them the winners of the Triwizard Cup. They hold it together and are surprised by the sudden camera flashes. 

“Smile for the cameras…” advises Bagman whose lower voice is less than cheerful. Perhaps he has been made aware of internal conflict that engulfs the top of the Great Hall. Moira and Cedric politely smile as the flashing lights continue. Dumbledore poses for a few photos with the winners as they continue to hold the Cup. Bagman and Fudge enter the frame. More photos are taken. The three men leave the frame. The winners are then joined by Mr. Diggory, Mrs. Diggory, Mr. Crane, Mrs. Crane, Angelica, and Bryn for a final round of photographs. 

Bagman takes the Cup from the teenagers and hands it to Dumbledore. “I believe that this belongs to Hogwarts now.” 

The Headmaster politely accepts the Cup and who has a staff member carefully handle the item. Fudge approaches Moira and Cedric with two pouches. 

“Miss Crane… Mr. Diggory… you have both competed bravely and mightily in the Triwizard Task Tournament. You have each brought glory unto yourselves, your families, and… your school,” says Fudge in a rehearsed tone. “On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, we would like to award you 500 galleons each.” 

He hands Moira her award and shakes her hand. They freeze mid-handshake and pose for the camera. It is the same process for Cedric. 

“Once again, congratulations, and have a great summer,” concludes Fudge as he sits back down. Bagman excitedly hugs them before he sits.

“And so, ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the end of the Triwizard Tournament.” 

More applause and more cheers. 

Dumbledore turns to the winners and speaks in a lower tone “Could you both join me at my office after breakfast?” The couple nods before returning back to their tables, where their families now join them. An hour later, the teenagers bid their families goodbye before entering the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade train station. 

The Diggory family interaction is warm and heartfelt. Moira shares genuine hugs with Mrs. Crane and her siblings. She reluctantly hugs her father, only doing so for appearances’ sake. They wave off their families’ carriages and head straight to Dumbledore’s office, which is wide open. 

“Moira, Cedric! Come in! Do sit down!” Dumbledore says as he quickly closes off his entrance. His pet phoenix, Fawkes, stares at them as Dumbledore across his students at this desk. 

“The year ahead of us, as you both know, is uncertain. As a school, we will have to gird our loins as we look to each other and protect one another from the upcoming danger that will impact each and everyone one of us. Aside from Harry Potter, you two are the only students with confirmed knowledge of Voldermort’s return. You are both aware of the Ministry’s stance and will soon understand the student sentiment regarding this news. You are aware of the dangers that the Death Eaters pose. You have both risked your lives in the Tournament and have been awarded for doing so. Your schoolmates admire your bravery and wit. You each both hold influence amongst the students as winners and as seventh-years. It will be imperative that the students have someone to look to… someone that they will believe… someone who will fight for them if the opportunity arrives… With all of this in mind, I am appointing you both as Head Boy and Head Girl for your seventh and final year at Hogwarts.” 

Cedric’s eyes open as he breaks into a grateful smile. Moira, on the other hand, furrows her eyebrows. 

“Professor, I’m not a Prefect. I have never been a Prefect…” says Moira. 

“I know,” says Dumbledore. “You needn’t be a Prefect to be Head Girl… just like you needn’t be a dragonologist to face a dragon… or a merperson to fight off the grindylows… or an Auror to outsmart a practitioner of the Dark Arts… or a Ministry-person to Confunde and create a new Portkey to avoid a certain fate…” 

The couple’s eyes widen in shock. Dumbledore chuckles at their reaction. “Your secrets are safe with me. We all do what we must do in order to survive. I trust that you both will do the best you can with the positions. A letter will be sent over the summer to announce your positions and your badges will arrive in the mail. You will have to wear it on the train in September.” 

Taking it as their cue to leave the office, the couple thank their Headmaster and leave. 

After the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff celebrations and the End of Year feast a few days later, all of Hogwarts had to say goodbye to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. It was strange to have three student bodies coexist at the beginning of the year but it has since felt so normal to see light blue dresses and long staffs running around the castle that their departure becomes a painful scene. 

From a distance, Moira watches as Salvia tearfully says goodbye to Aleksandr. Roger and Fleur (who have been distant with one another since The Yule Ball) amicably hug. Viktor hands Hermione a slip of parchment… probably with his home address. 

The Four Champions congregate in the midst of the goodbyes in one of the courtyards. It’s the first time they’ve interacted together as a group since the Third Task. They share a big group hug. 

“I’m going to miss the quiet we shared before our Tasks,” says Viktor. 

“I’m going to miss the chats we always had amongst each other,” says Fleur.

“I’m going to miss the joy we felt together,” says Cedric. 

“I’m going the moment we’re having right now.” finishes Moira. 

Tearing up slightly, the Champions break up the hug. They exchange parchments with each other’s addresses, promising to keep in touch and one day meet up. Moira and Cedric wave at Viktor and Fleur as they join their respective classmates and leave Hogwarts. 

As the Beauxbatons carriage flies away and the Durmstrang boat dives into the water, a sadness enters the hearts of the couple as they realize that their year-long adventure has officially ended. 

A few hours later in her dormitory, Moira finalizes packing up her belongings. She’s positive that she has collected everything but she looks around one last time. She looks at her bedside and finds the model of the Hungarian Horntail staring at her. She gives it a weak smile as she places it in her pocket. Everything else around her appears to be empty. 

“Hello, my little bird,” 

Moira turns around and sees Trelawney leaning towards the door frame. “I haven’t been here in years…” The elder Seer looks around and lets out a nostalgic smile. “Everything looks the same… Except for the confetti on the ground… That’s new.” She lets out a chuckle. 

“I wanted to say goodbye before you left… and to personally say… congratulations.” 

“Thank you… but I’m afraid to say that it’s come at a great cost.” 

Understanding what the younger Seer refers to, the elder Seer nods. 

A guilty expression colors Moira’s face. “If I Saw it… I would have… I could have… I might have failed… but… I could have tried… Why didn’t I See that coming?” 

“You cannot blame yourself for everything that has taken place after fighting to survive. 

You Saw what the Inner Eye needed you to See and you from that place… Dumbledore told me that he made you Head Girl…” says Trelawney. 

“He did?” 

“Yes… He also alerted me of your and Cedric’s encounter with Harry and Crouch. I do not know why he chose to speak with me… I do not know if he spoke with Professor Flitwick on these matters though I imagine as House Head… he too knows… There is something brewing, Moira, and I believe that everything you’ve endured throughout the year is preparing you for something far bigger than the both of us. Your entry into the Tournament and your Inner Eye awakening are not coincidental. Your Inner Eye awakening and your victory are not coincidental. Your survival, victory, and Crouch’s discovery are not coincidental. Your discovery of Crouch and your appointment as Head Girl is not coincidental…. Nothing happens in isolation, my little bird. Everything and everyone is bound to each other… whether we like it or not,” Trelawney monologues. “In a peculiar way… you already died.” 

Moira raises an eyebrow as she consciously checks for her heartbeat. “I did? How?” 

“The person you were in September had to die in order to become the person you had to be in order to be standing here. Your old life had to die in order to live the life you had over the past year. The old Moira Crane died the moment you chose to become ‘The White-Winged Crane’. Your old life died the moment you submitted your name into the Goblet of Fire. I sense that a part of you did die in that maze… but no one will know this until a later time,” explains Trelawney. “But you needn’t let that overwhelm you…” 

She pulls Moira into a hug. “It’s over, my little bird, The Tournament is over… The year is over… It’s all over… You can fly away from here now… You can breathe now.” 

As Moira allows herself to be comforted by the hug, she has a growing feeling that she’ll be able to neither fly nor breathe.


	25. Chapter 25

The Hogwarts Express is en route from Hogsmeade to King’s Cross Station. Moira and Cedric typically share a compartment with their friends, but they opt to share one as a couple. This is the first private moment they have since the comforting embrace they shared right before the Third Task. 

It has been about an hour since the train has taken off. The couple has exchanged no words so far. Mutual exhaustion speaks for itself. They have no craving for sweets and no desire to read what the Daily Prophet has to report for today. Their eyes glaze around them. Their minds are numb. 

“I owe you my life,” says Cedric, instantly breaking the silence between them. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” replies Moira. 

“But I do… I really do…” insists Cedric “I would have never survived Viktor, let alone the getting past the Cup without you.” 

Moira lets out a reflective smile. “You know… I will always find the Second Task amusing.” 

“Why?” he curiously asks as he silently recalls the grindylow burn that she sustained after narrowly escaping them. 

“We were rescuing the thing we’d miss most… but the thing I’d miss most… the person I’d truly miss the most would be you,” Moira explains. “ You’re the first person I met on this train. You’re the first friend I made here at Hogwarts. You’re the first true friend I’ve ever had in my life. You are my best friend… my best-best friend. And on top of all of that, I love you…” 

She wipes a tear streaming down her cheek as she continues to speak. “You’d owe me if I chose to save you, but I didn’t choose to. It was never a choice. It was the only course of action I was willing to take as soon as I knew that I could take it.”

“How Hufflepuff of you,” Cedric jokes. “And, I love you too…” he says with a more serious tone. “I’m still in debt to you.”

“You did save me from the vines, so I suppose we’re in debt to each other.” proposes Moira. 

Moira opts to sit next to Cedric. She rests her head on his shoulder. He rests his head against the crown of her head. The couple’s synced breathing becomes increasingly relaxed. 

“Next year is going to be mad isn’t it?” wonders Cedric. 

“It is… but if the Goblet of Fire thinks that we could pull off the Tournament…Which we did… Then… this… this should be fine… I hope…” says Moira. 

“Speaking of which… how are you feeling about the Goblet of Fire?” he asks with a soft and caring tone. 

Moira decides to think out loud to articulate her feelings on the matter. “Ancient Magic… Equal Worthiness… Love and Oaths…Our love and bond are so powerful that an ancient magical artifact is forced to bend to our will? It makes us sound… mythological.” 

“You’re already mythological in itself. ‘The White-Winged Crane’ sounds like the name of a children’s tale to me.” remarks Cedric. 

She lets out a playful laugh. “I reckon we should find you a catchy… but equally cringe-worthy nickname and then we combine it with my nickname… that would be a true children’s tale title to me.” 

“It’s a deal,” He lets out a deeper version of the laughter that she heard when she looked into the crystal ball. He still has the same laughing facial expression he had as a child. 

“But in all seriousness… I do feel… at peace with it… I feel… whole… It feels… right. I know he’s right about it…. And… I’m glad I entered my name into the Goblet of Fire….” says Moira. 

“I’m glad you did too,” says Cedric. 

“I’m glad we both did. Despite the nastiness towards the end of the Tournament… entering the Tournament… winning the Tournament… It feels… right. This all feels right… I just… know it….” she says as she begins to end her verbal train of thought. “I have to confess that I am going to miss the exam exemption…. And the Ball…” 

He laughs. “The dancing? Or what we did under the tree?” 

She shoots him a flirty look. “What do you think?” 

He chuckles again as they turn for a kiss on the lips before resuming their resting position. Moira breathes the burden of her heart away as she begins to truly feel the satisfaction that she’s only felt in small doses. She discovers that she has now taken the full dosage of the antidote that she has spent ten months searching for. 

As Moira Crane closes her eyes and takes in the peace that has with herself and with her lover and best friend, Cedric Diggory, for the next few hours, a voice inside of her warns that the piece that they currently indulge in will only last until they arrive at King’s Cross Station. The peace and calm that they share will only last until they reach the point of no return…. On the other side of that point, a new task awaits them. 

**THE END (FOR NOW)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story! Feel free to comment, leave kudos, and share!


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